Ulrich  Middeldorf 


ALLSTON:   Flagg.J.B.,  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Washington 
Alls ton!  XVl!%3  s:,zahlr.Taf.,N.Y.1969.Lwd.(Repr.d.Ausg 
N.Y.1892.-  Library  of  American  Art) 


^STTb  "-The LtteVLetters  oi  Washington  Allston.  Dtas.  Reissue 
FLoM892  ed    Da  Capo  Pr.  1969.  435.p.  (Pub.  @  $17.  50). 


/ 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 

OF 

WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


Portrait  of  Allston. 

From  the  original  by  George  W.  Flagg,  N.  A. 


THE  LIFE  AND  LETTERS 

OF 

WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


BY 

JARED  B.  FLAGG  N.A.  S.T.D. 


WITH   REPRODUCTIONS   FROM  ALLS  TON'S  PICTURES 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

MDCCCXCII 


Copyright,  1892,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


TROW  DIRECTORY 
PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


V  the  memory  of  Richard  H.  T>ana,  Sr.,  without 
whose  intelligent  and  careful  labor  in  gathering 
material  for  bis  proposed  life  of  zAllston,  I  should  not 
have  begun  my  work;  and  to  his  daughter,  {Miss 
7^.  Charlotte  Dana,  without  whose  encouraging  co- 
operation and  sympathy,  I  should  neither  have  begun 
nor  finished  it,  this  Biography  is  gratefully  dedicated. 


PREFACE 


The  author  of  this  Biography,  impelled  by  repeated  re- 
quests of  relatives  and  friends  of  Allston,  has  with  diffi- 
dence attempted  the  work,  too  long  delayed,  of  gathering 
together  such  memories,  written  and  verbal,  as  were  still  to 
be  found,  for  the  purpose  of  constructing  a  suitable  memo- 
rial of  America's  great  painter. 

Others  have  preceded  me  in  the  work,  but  for  want  of  ma- 
terial at  hand  have  been  obliged  to  content  themselves  with 
slight  and  insufficient  records  of  a  life  known  to  be  rich  in  all 
the  elements  requisite  to  interest,  instruct,  and  elevate. 

Dunlap,  Washington  Irving,  Mrs.  Jameson,  Tuckerman, 
Sweetser,  Miss  Peabody,  and  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  have  contribut- 
ed valuable  outlines,  but  in  no  instance  has  the  work  been  car- 
ried to  that  measure  of  fulness  which  justice  to  the  subject  de- 
mands. This  conviction  of  inadequacy  in  the  various  sketches 
of  Allston's  life  has  given  urgency  to  the  request  that  I  should 
undertake  the  task  which  would  have  been  done  by  abler 
hands  had  the  elder  Dana  lived  to  fulfil  his  loving  pur- 
pose. From  his  notes  and  unfinished  manuscripts,  together 
with  the  many  and  valuable  letters  which  he  had  gathered,  it 
is  evident  that  he  intended  to  leave,  as  the  crowning  labor  of 
his  life,  a  book  worthy  of  himself  and  of  Allston. 


viii 


PREFACE 


The  present  is  a  day  of  specialties,  of  classification  and 
directness.  Philosophy  is  eliminated  from  narrative,  and  re- 
flections, speculative  or  critical,  are  out  of  place  in  the  story  of 
a  life.  How  far  the  canon  of  criticism  enforcing  this  elimina- 
tion may  be  carried  without  overreaching  and  missing  its  pur- 
pose, I  will  not  presume  to  decide ;  doubtless  it  may  be  carried 
to  an  objectionable  extreme.  I  have  obeyed  the  edict  of  the 
critical  public  in  this  matter  so  far  as  to  feel  almost  like  apolo- 
gizing for  the  measure  of  my  obedience. 

My  first  plan  included  the  treatment  of  various  questions 
of  art,  as  they  would  arise  naturally  in  contemplating  the 
life  of  an  artist.  This  I  believed  would  be  to  carry  out  the 
design  of  my  predecessor  in  the  work. 

I  cannot  say  that  in  my  forbearance  the  public  has  lost 
anything  of  special  value ;  but  I  can  say,  that  in  the  case  of 
the  elder  Dana  such  forbearance  would  have  involved  great 
loss ;  had  he  lived  to  finish  his  Life  of  Allston,  biographical 
narration  would  have  been  embellished  by  the  philosophical 
reflections  of  a  mind  whose  every  expression  is  the  embodi- 
ment of  intelligence  and  the  evidence  of  poetic  sensibility.  In 
familiarizing  myself  with  his  work,  cut  short  by  death,  I 
have  been  continually  impressed  with  the  thought  that  he 
was,  above  all  others,  qualified  as  Allston's  biographer.  To  no 
other  theme  could  he  have  brought  the  fulness  of  his  intel- 
lect, his  power  of  discrimination  and  analysis,  with  such  lov- 
ing homage.  His  admiration  for  Allston  was  boundless.  He 
regarded  him  as  one  in  whom  were  centred  all  high  quali- 
ties with  the  least  possible  admixture  of  the  earthy.  So  im- 
bued with  a  sentiment  of  exalted  esteem,  he  could  devote 


PREFACE 


ix 


the  tribute  of  his  rare  scholarship  and  brilliant  imagination 
as  a  free-will  offering  to  the  memory  of  his  distinguished  rela- 
tive. 

In  studying  his  notes  and  plan  for  the  book,  I  have  been 
not  only  certified  of  a  great  loss,  but  have  felt  embarrassed 
in  the  attempt  to  enter  into  his  labors.  I  have  been  oppressed 
with  a  sense  of  inability  to  carry  the  work  to  that  degree  of 
fulness  and  finish  which  he  had  in  view.  His  copious  mem- 
oranda and  notes  have  afforded  me  the  greatest  assistance. 

From  all  sources  open  to  me  I  have  gathered  and  appro- 
priated whatever  would  add  to  the  completeness  and  inter- 
est of  my  work.  For  assistance  obtained  from  living  witnesses 
I  am  chiefly  indebted  to  Allston's  niece,  Miss  It.  Charlotte 
Dana,  and  his  nephew,  George  W.  Flagg. 


LIST  OF  REPRODUCTIONS  FROM 
ALLSTON'S  PAINTINGS 


Portrait  Of  AllstOU,  ....  Frontispiece. 

From  the  original  by  George  W.  Flagg,  N.  A. 

PAGE 

Portrait  of  Benjamin  West,  President  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  38 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 

Portrait  of  Allston's  Mother,        ...  82 

From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  of  New  York. 

The  Angel  Liberating  St.  Peter  from  Prison,  94 

From  the  original  study  for  the  large  picture  now  in  the  Hospital 
for  the  Insane,  Worcester,  Mass. 

Portrait  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  ....  106 

From  the  original  in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery,  London. 


Outline  Sketch  of  Two  Angels  in  "Jacob's  Dream/'  1 32 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 

xi 


Unfinished  Portrait  of  Allston  by  Himself  when 
a  Young  Man,  160 

In  the  possession  of  R.  Charlotte  Dana,  of  Boston. 

The  Stoning  of  St.  Stephen,  .      .      .      .  igo 

From  the  original  sketch  in  the  possession  of  Jared  B.  Flagg,  of  New  York. 

Dead  Man  Revived  by  Touching  the  Bones  of  the 
Prophet  Elijah,  210 

From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Fine  Arts. 

Jeremiah  Dictating  his  Prophecy  of  the  Destruction 
of  Jerusalem  to  Barucb  the  Scribe,  .      .  246 

From  the  original  in  the  Art  Gallery  of  Yale  College. 

Dido  and  Anna,  270 

From  the  original  sketch  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 

Swiss  Scenery,  300 

From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  Thornton  K.  Lothrop,  of  Boston. 

The  Sisters,  318 

From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  Thornton  K.  Lothrop,  of  Boston. 

Belsha^afs  Feast,  334 

From  the  original  study  for  the  large  unfinished  picture  in  the 
Boston  Museum  of  Art. 


xii 


Outline  Sketch  of  Titania's  Fairy  Court, 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 

The  Sibyl — Outline  in  Chalk, 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 

A  Marine  in  Chalk,  

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 

Uriel  in  the  Sun,  

From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  the  Duke  of  Sutherland. 


xiii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

i 

Allston's  Parentage. — His  Childhood.— School-days  in  Charles- 
ton and  Newport.  — Acquaintance  with  King  and  Malbone. — 
Entrance  at  Harvard  College,  


CHAPTER  II. 

Allston's  College  Life  at  Cambridge  and  Early  Letters.— His 
Picture  "The  Buck's  Progress." — Appointed  Class-poet  and 
Graduates  with  Honor, — Leonard  Jarvis's  Recollection  of 
Him.  *  


CHAPTER  III. 

Return  to  Charleston.— Departure  for  Europe. — Student  Life 
in  London.— Difference  between  Allston  and  Malbone. — 
Acquaintance  with  Fusell— Exhibition  at  Somerset  House, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

First  Impressions  of  London  given  in  Letters  to  Fraser  and 
Knapp. — Contrast  between  Luxury  and  Squalor.— Social  in- 
equality.—West  s  Rank  as  a  Painter.— Fusell,  Opie,  North- 
cote,  and  Trumbull,  


xii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  V. 

PAGE 

With  Vanderlyn  in  Paris. — Impressions  of  the  Old  Masters. — 
His  Preference  for  the  Great  Venetians.  —  Theories  of 
Painting.  —  Journey  to  Italy.  —  Studious  Application  to 
Work.— Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  55 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Irving  in  Allston's  Studio. — His  Desire  to  become  a  Painter. — 
His  Sketch  of  Allston. — Particulars  of  their  Intimacy. — 
"  Belshazzar's  Feast."  —  Allston's  own  Description  of  his 
Design.— "Jacob's  Dream."— Success  in  England,     .      .  .67 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Letter  from  Coleridge.  —  London  again.  —  Return  to  Boston. — 
Marriage. — Return  to  Europe  with  Morse. — Morse's  Opin- 
ion of  Allston,  76 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Painting  and  Purchase  of  "The  Angel  Releasing  St.  Peter 
from  Prison."  —  Allston's  Skill  in  Perspective. — Appreci- 
ative Letters  from  Sir  George  Beaumont  and  Thomas 
Appleton.— Curious  Fate  of  the  Picture,  89 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  TnE  Dead  Man  Revived  by  Touching  the  Bones  of  the  Pro- 
phet Elisha." — Allston's  own  Description  of  the  Picture. — 
Making  Clay  Models  for  the  Work.— Takes  the  First  Prize 
of  Two  Hundred  Guineas  when  Exhibited  at  the  British 
Institution. — Allston's  Sickness  and  Visit  to  Bristol,    .      .  96 


CONTENTS 


xiii 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAGE 

The  Portrait  op  Coleridge. — Allston's  own  Opinion  op  it.  

Wordsworth's  Judgment.  —  What  the  London  "Guardian" 
said.— Allston's  Appreciation  op  Coleridge's  Genius,     .      .  104 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Mrs.  Allston's  Death.— Her  Funeral.— The  Cavern  Scene  from 
"Gil  Blas."  —Allston's  Charity.  —  Letter  from  his  Class- 
mate, Jarvis.  —  Coleridge's  Letter  of  Condolence.  —  His 
Views  on  the  War  between  England  and  the  United 
States,  109 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Sale  of  "The  Dead  Man  Revived"  to  the  Pennsylvania  Acad- 
emy of  Fine  Arts. — Allston's  Affection  for  England. —Let- 
ter Explaining  Allston's  Reason  for  Declining  to  Paint  a 
Picture  from  his  Sketch  of  "Christ  Healing."— "The  Cav- 
ern Scene"  Purchased  Immediately,  118 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Allston's  Second  Visit  to  Paris,  wiTn  Leslie  and  Collins  — Gift 
to  Coleridge,  and  its  Appreciation. — "Ukiel  in  the  Sun" 
takes  the  Highest  Prize  at  the  Exhibition  of  the  British 
Institute. — Leslie's  Opinion  op  "Elijah  in  the  Desert." 
"Jacob's  Dream."— Mrs.  Jameson's  Description  of  it. — Lines 
by  Wordsworth,  12G 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Allston's  Final  Return  to  America. — Letters  of  Earnest  Pro- 
test Against  his  Leaving  England.  —  Election  as  an  Asso- 


xiv 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

ciate  of  the  royal  academy. — warm  letters  from  collins 
and  Leslie,  135 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Letters  of  the  Year  1819— from  G.  C.  Verplanck,  C.  R.  Leslie, 
Sir  George  Beaumont,  and  Allston,  14C 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Letters  of  1820  to  1824  from  Allston  and  Leslie,  ....  162 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Letters  by  Henry  Greenotjgh  Describing  the  Technical  Side 
of  Allston's  Art. — His  Method  of  Painting. — His  Palette 
and  Theory  of  Color. — How  he  Obtained  Luminousness  in 
Flesh  Tints.— Value  of  the  Old  Masters  for  Inspiration 
and  Instructing.  —  Allston'  \  Letter  of  Instruction  for 
Thomas  Cole,  181 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Letters  from  1826  to  1830. — Beginning  of  Cogdell  Correspond- 
ence.— Allston's  Letters  to  Cogdell,  Verplanck,  and  Les- 
lie.—Horatio  Greenough  and  Leslie  to  Allston,    .      .      .  208 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Correspondence  between  Allston  and  Verplanck  in  Relation 
to  Paintings  for  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  1830.  —  All- 
ston's Second  Marriage  and  Settlement  in  Cambridgeport. 
— Account  of  his  Daily  Life  and  Habits. — His  Liberality  in 
Religion,    228 


CONTENTS 


xv 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PAGE 

The  "Jeremiah."— Its  Exhibition  in  Boston.— Letters  of  1830 
to  1832,  to  McMurtrie,  Verplanck,  and  Cogdell,    .      .      .  247 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Letter  from  Edward  Everett.— Correspondence  in  Relation  to 
Painting  an  Historical  Picture  for  South  Carolina.— Let- 
ters to  Sully,  Leslie,  and  J.  Mason.— Letter  to  Leonard 
Jarvis  on  Greenougii's  Statue  of  Washington,       .      .      .  263 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Vindication  of  Allston  against  Accusations  of  Indolence.— Ex- 
tract from  Draft  of  a  Letter  from  Allston  to  Duwlap. — 
Extract  from  Memoranda  of  R.  H.  Dana,  Sr.,  ....  277 
I 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Letters  from  1835  to  1838.— Allston  to  Cogdell,  Comments  on 
Art.— Correspondence  between  Allston  and  the  Congres- 
sional Committee.— Final  Decision  not  to  Accept  the  Com- 
mission given  him  by  the  Government,  285 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Mrs.  Jameson's  Praise  of  the  Allston  Exhibition  in  Boston  in 
1839.  —  Letter  of  Allston  to  his  Mother  concerning  this 
Exhibition. — Death  of  his  Mother. — Letters  to  Cogdell  and 
McMurtrie,  208 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Ali.stons  Letters  during  the  Last  Years  of  his  Life:  To 
Count  Raczynski,  on  German  Art  ;  to  McMurtrie  and  Cog- 


xvi 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

dell.  —  Exhibition  of  "Spalatro"  in  Charleston,  S.  C.  — 
Charles  Fraser's  Opinion  of  the  Work.— Letters  to  Leslie 

AND  TO  THE  WIDOW  OF  DR.  WILLIAM  ELLERY  CnANNING,     .         .  31G 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Death  of  Allston.— His  Sudden  and  Painless  Passing  Away.— 
Account  of  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  329 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

First  Inspection  of  u  Belshazzar." — Technical  Account  of  it  by 
John  Greenough.  —  Attempts  at  Restoration.  —  Tragic  In- 
fluence of  the  Work  on  Allston's  Life.— Its  Present  Po- 
sition,  334 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Recollections  of  Washington  Allston  by  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.— His 
Preference  of  Reynolds  to  Vandyke.— Opinions  on  the  Old 
Masters,  and  Various  other  Subjects,  354 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Letters  on  Allston  to  R.  H.  Dana,  Sr.,  from  Wordsworth  ; 
William  Cullen  Bryant;  C.  R.  Leslie,  R.A.  ;  W.  F.  Collard; 
William  Collins,  R.A.  ;  Professor  Henry  Reed  ;  Colonel 
William  Drayton  ;  W.  Y.  Dearborn  ;  Charles  Frazer,  and 
Joshua  H.  Wayward,  3C8 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Letters  from  Horatio  Greenough  Eulogizing  Allston's  Char- 
acter and  Commenting  on  his  Works. — A  Letter  from  W.  W. 
Story,  Supplemented  by  a  Tribute  to  Allston  in  Verse,     .  383 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

PAGE 

Allston's  Poetry  and  other  Literary  Work.  —  Extracts  and 
Comments.— u  Rosalie."—  "  America  to  Great  Britain."— Son- 
nets.— "Sylphs  of  the  Seasons." — "The  Paint-king. "—Com- 
parison of  Ostade  and  Raphael. — "Monaldi." — Aphorisms,    .  :394 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Allston's  Originality.— His  Sympathetic  Feeling  for  the  Old 
Masters.— Sources  of  his  Embarrassments.— His  Great  Nat- 
ural Gifts  and  Great  Attainments. — Unfortunate  Distri- 
bution and  Arrangement  of  His  Works,  419 


Index 


427 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


CHAPTEK  L 

ALLSTON'S  PAKENTAGE. — HIS  CHILDHOOD. — SCHOOL-DAYS  IN  CHARLES- 
TON AND  NEWPORT. — ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  KING  AND  MALBONE. 
— ENTRANCE  AT  HARVARD  COLLEGE. 

The  South  Carolina  Allstons  trace  their  descent  from  a  baro- 
nial family  in  the  Norse  settlement  in  Northumberland.  Their 
immediate  ancestor,  John,  who  adhered  to  the  fortunes  of  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth  in  his  unsuccessful  rebellion,  to  escape 
his  leader's  sad  fate,  probably,  came  over  about  the  year  1685, 
and  settled  in  the  rich  rice  country  bordering  the  Waccamaw 
River,  where  he  and  his  descendants  became  a  wealthy  and  influ- 
ential family.  About  the  same  time  there  emigrated  to  Carolina, 
and  settled  in  St.  James'  Parish,  Berkley,  James  Moore,  a  grand- 
son, as  tradition  tells,  of  the  brilliant  and  famous  Roger  Moore 
(or  More),  leader  of  the  Irish  rebellion  of  1G41.  He  was  made 
Governor  of  the  colony  in  1700.  He  married  the  only  child  of  a 
former  Governor,  Sir  Joseph  Yeamans,  Bart.,  by  whom  he  had  a 
son,  James,  who  was  also  made  Governor  in  1719,  having  before 
then,  as  commander  of  the  forces  of  the  colony,  gained  great  dis- 
tinction in  wars  against  the  Indians.  Ramsey,  in  his  "  History 
of  South  Carolina,"  says  of  Colonel  Moore :  "  He  was  a  man 
excellently  qualified  for  being  a  popular  leader  in  perilous  adven- 
tures ;  in  every  new  enterprise  he  had  been  a  volunteer,  and  in 
all  his  undertakings  was  resolute,  steady,  and  inflexible." 


2 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


His  son  John  married  Rachel  Villeponteux,  a  Huguenot 
lady.  Their  son  John  married  Elizabeth  Vanderhorst,  also  a 
Huguenot,  and  their  daughter,  Rachel  Moore,  was  the  mother  of 
"Washington  Allston.  This  last-named  John  Moore  became  very 
rich,  which  was  proven,  as  well  as  his  patriotism,  by  his  lending 
the  government,  for  carrying  on  the  War  of  Independence,  the 
very  considerable  sum,  in  those  times,  of  fourteen  thousand 
pounds,  in  gold.  His  three  daughters  are  mentioned  in  a  histor- 
ical scrap  as  among  the  most  beautiful  women  of  the  colony,  and 
the  excellent  portrait  of  Rachel  (habitually  called  by  the  petit 
nom  of  "Cettie,"  as  others  of  her  family  were),  now  owned  by  her 
descendant,  Miss  Helen  Allston,  of  Charleston,  shows  that  she 
certainly  merited  the  compliment.  She  was  married  January 
19,  1775,  to  William  Allston,  son  of  John  and  Deborah,  a 
captain  in  the  war,  and  a  widower  at  the  time,  having  two  sons 
by  a  former  wife.  He  is  mentioned  in  James's  "Life  of  Marion" 
in  these  terms : 

"During  the  struggle  of  the  year  1781,  Captain  William 
Allston,  of  True  Blue,  on  Little  River,  All  Saints  Parish,  served 
under  Marion.  He  was  a  firm  patriot  and  good  soldier ;  indeed 
he  may  well  be  enumerated  among  the  martyrs  to  the  cause  of 
his  country." 

The  children  of  this  marriage  were — Mary,  born  in  1778; 
Washington,  whose  birth  is  registered  in  the  family  Bible  thus  : 
"My  son  Washington  was  born  Friday  night,  half  after  eleven 
o'clock,  the  fifth  of  November,  1779,"  and  William  Moore,  born 
1781. 

Mrs.  Allston,  having  had  a  French  grandmother  on  the 
father's  side  and  a  French  mother,  was,  as  to  blood,  three- 
fourths  French.  Charleston  was  largely  peopled  with  Huguenot 
refugees  in  those  times ;  her  aunt,  Elizabeth  Moore,  was  married 
to  one  of  them,  a  gentleman  named  Neufville  (corrupted  since  to 
Neville),  and  of  the  loves  of  a  son  of  theirs  and  his  cousin 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


3 


Rachel,  a  story  has  come  down  which  may  properly  be  related 
here,  since  such  readers  as  may  become  interested  in  the  life  of 
her  son  may  want  to  know  something  of  the  mother.  Early  in 
their  lives  the  two  cousins,  much  thrown  together  during  child- 
hood, as  we  may  presume,  became  lovers,  and  when  young  Neuf- 
ville,  as  was  usual  with  scions  of  the  Carolina  aristocracy,  was  sent 
to  England  to  be  educated,  they  were  affianced  lovers,  expecting 
to  be  united  when  he  should  have  completed  his  studies  and  made 
the  tour  of  Europe.  It  would  not  have  been  strange  if  so  long  a 
separation  and  the  many  attractions  and  allurements  besetting 
a  youth  abroad  in  the  world  had  weakened  the  ties  of  first  love, 
so  far  as  the  man  was  concerned,  though,  as  will  be  seen,  the 
woman  was  true.  Certain  it  is  that  his  letters  became  less  and 
less  frequent,  and  finally  ceased  altogether ;  there  was  a  report  of 
his  death  when  the  eligible  and  attractive  widower  Allston  began 
to  pay  her  attentions.  She  repelled  them,  of  course ;  but  her 
parents,  and  especially  her  mother,  strongly  desired  the  match, 
and  so  strongly  seconded  the  cause  of  the  suitor  that  Rachel 
finally  yielded,  though  not  until  after  she  had  been  made  to  be- 
lieve that  Neulville  was  dead. 

As  was  usual  with  planters  on  the  Waccamaw  River,  Captain 
Allston  had  both  a  "plantation  house"  near  his  rice-fields  and  a 
"  sea-shore  house  "  not  far  distant,  where  was  found  in  summer- 
time a  refuge  from  heat  as  well  as  malaria.  Opposite  this  last, 
in  the  spring  of  1778,  and  after  his  family  had  been  removed  to 
it,  a  ship  was  wrecked.  The  crew  took  to  the  boats  and  pulled 
for  the  shore,  where  storm-driven  waves  rolling  up  a  level  beach 
made  breakers  of  such  height  as  to  render  their  chances  of  safe- 
ly "  beaching  "  desperate.  All  but  one  perished  in  the  attempt. 
He,  not  a  sailor,  but  a  passenger,  when  he  had  clambered  out  of 
the  surf,  made  his  way  to  the  nearest  habitation.  In  answer  to 
his  inquiries,  the  servants  who  admitted  him  informed  him  it 
was  the  house  of  Captain  Allston,  who  was  not  then  at  home, 


4 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


but  said  that  they  would  inform  their  mistress.  Soon  the  door 
of  the  room  in  which  he  was  waiting  opened  and  the  mistress  en- 
tered. He  gazed  at  her  in  speechless  astonishment.  She  started 
back,  and  uttering  the  name  of  him  who  she  thought  was  sleeping 
with  the  dead  in  a  distant  land,  fell  to  the  floor  in  a  swoon.  When 
she  recovered,  Neufville  had  left  the  house,  and  shortly  after  tid- 
ings were  received  of  his  death  from  yellow  fever  in  Charleston. 

This  narrative  reads  so  like  a  conventional  romance  that  it  is 
difficult  to  credit  it  as  a  record  of  facts ;  yet  such  it  is.  An  ex- 
perience so  impressive  could  not  fail  to  exert  a  lasting  influence. 
We  may  assume  that  it  did  much  to  chasten,  much  to  establish 
that  poise  of  character,  and  to  develop  those  high  qualities  of 
womanhood  for  which  the  mother  of  Washington  Allston  was 
conspicuous.  Self-reliance,  tender-heartedness,  frankness,  gen- 
erosity, and  firmness  were  characteristics  she  bequeathed  to  her 
progeny. 

In  1781  Captain  Allston,  on  his  return  from  the  famous  bat- 
tle of  Cowpens,  was  seized  with  a  mysterious  illness,  from  which 
he  died.  It  was  believed  he  was  poisoned  by  a  trusted  servant. 
Just  before  his  death,  at  his  request,  the  infant  Washington 
was  brought  to  his  bedside;  he  then  uttered  these  prophetic 
words:  " He  who  lives  to  see  this  child  grow  up  will  see  a  great 
man."  The  young  mother  cherished  the  prediction  of  the 
dying  father  as  a  sacred  legacy.  Every  incident  of  Washing- 
ton's childhood  indicating  genius  would  recall  the  words  of  the 
sick-room  in  corroboration  of  her  ambition  and  expectations 
regarding  him.  It  was  a  voice  from  the  borders  of  the  spirit 
world,  a  solemnly  impressive  and  true  prophecy  of  his  future 
greatness.  She  never  doubted  it,  and  she  reared  him  as  in  the 
light  of  that  prophecy.  How  far  the  reflex  influence  of  her 
mind  thus  biassed  was  an  element  in  the  development  of  his 
character,  we  cannot  tell,  and  yet  we  may  not  reasonably  ignore 
or  deny  it. 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


5 


The  spring  after  Captain  Allston's  death,  Lord  Cornwallis 
selected  as  his  head-quarters  the  plantation  of  the  Widow  All- 
ston,  and,  with  his  staff,  took  up  his  abode  in  her  house.  His 
Lordship  and  officers  were  extremely  gallant  and  courteous,  con- 
ducting themselves  rather  as  gentlemen  on  a  visit  to  a  friend 
than  as  representatives  of  a  hostile  army  in  the  house  of  one 
of  the  enemy.  The  utmost  consideration  and  deference  were 
shown  in  the  endeavor  to  conform  to  the  customs  of  the  house ; 
nothing  on  the  premises  was  injured,  and  the  widow  was  pleased 
by  their  gentle  and  considerate  deportment.  One  day  at  dinner, 
having  learned  through  the  servants  that  there  was  an  infant  in 
the  house  named  Washington,  his  Lordship  politely  requested 
the  young  mother  to  present  them  to  the  little  general ;  she 
assented,  and  the  child  was  carried  around  the  table,  receiving 
the  admiration  and  playful  caresses  of  all  present. 

Born  on  a  Southern  plantation  Allston  was  surrounded  by 
influences  favorable  to  the  development  of  that  ideality  which  was 
so  richly  manifested  in  his  life.  The  pet  of  the  negroes  on  a 
large  plantation  undergoes  a  novitiate,  in  barbaric  magic  and 
superstition,  potential  in  the  highest  degree  in  developing  im- 
agination and  fancy.  The  boy  Washington  was  sensible  and 
sturdy  enough  to  be  able  to  listen  without  injury  to  stories  of 
ghosts  and  goblins  in  which  the  African  delights.  The  Southern 
negro  is  never  so  happy  as  when  relating  to  infantile  gentry 
legends  and  myths  to  startle  and  alarm.  No  training  could  be 
more  effective  in  peopling  the  shades  of  night  with  spectral 
forms  to  terrify,  than  that  to  which  this  child  of  genius  was  sub- 
jected. The  love  of  the  dramatic  and  tragic  which  was  ever  a 
conspicuous  element  in  his  character ;  that  ideality  that  was  con- 
tinually reaching  for  and  presenting  visions  of  the  invisible; 
that  love  of  imagery  in  the  realms  of  the  spectral  and  super- 
natural ;  in  short,  the  tendency  toward  the  marvellous,  not  only 
of  his  brush  but  of  his  pen  and  conversation,  it  is  not  too  much 


6 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


to  say  was  in  great  part  a  legitimate  result  of  the  influence  of 
the  negroes  acting  upon  his  highly  imaginative  nature.  In  later 
years,  while  repeating  the  ghost  stories  learned  in  his  childhood, 
he  would  say  that  the  excitement  he  experienced  in  being  fright- 
ened by  those  stories  was  delightful  to  him.  He  craved  excite- 
ment, and  to  such  a  degree  that,  even  though  mingled  with  fear, 
it  did  not  lose  its  relish.  There  was  in  him  an  affinity  for  the 
purely  ideal  which  belongs  not  to  ordinary  minds,  but  is  the 
property  of  the  true  poet. 

The  current  of  the  talent  of  which  he  partook  so  largely  can 
be  traced  back  many  generations  to  a  distinguished  Dutch  an- 
cestor, Yanderhorst,  a  contemporary  of  Rubens,  who  was  famous 
as  an  illustrator  of  books,  and  associated  with  the  great  artist  in 
that  work. 

Dr.  Henry  C.  Flagg  was  chief  of  the  medical  staff  of  Greene's 
army ;  he  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  shipping  merchant  of  New- 
port, R.  I.,  in  her  days  of  commercial  prominence.  He  remained 
in  the  South  after  the  war,  and  the  widow  of  Captain  Allston 
became  engaged  to  him,  much  against  the  wishes  and  Southern 
prejudices  of  her  family.  Her  mother  considered  the  officers  of 
Greene's  army  a  set  of  Northern  adventurers,  socially,  and  in 
every  way  beneath  the  gentry  of  the  South.  The  landholders — 
the  Southern  planters — were  regarded  by  themselves  as  the 
aristocracy,  the  nobility  of  the  country.  They  sent  their  sons  to 
the  North  to  be  educated,  it  is  true ;  but  learning  alone  could 
not  give  that  social  elevation  which  is  based  on  ownership  of 
land.  Mrs.  Moore  was  so  imbued  with  this  arrogant  spirit  that 
she  bitterly  opposed  her  daughter's  marriage  to  a  Northern 
officer.  It  was  not  the  personality  of  the  suitor,  but  his  birth 
and  origin  to  which  she  objected.  To  her  earnest  remon- 
strances Mrs.  Allston  replied  that  she  had  married  once  to  please 
her  family,  and  she  was  now  determined  to  please  herself.  This 
persistence  was  at  the  cost  of  her  patrimony.    After  marrying 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


7 


thus  against  the  will  of  her  family,  her  father  said  she  had  mar- 
ried a  Yankee  adventurer,  and  poverty  should  be  her  portion. 

Dr.  Flagg,  the  step-father  of  Washington  Allston,  manifested 
the  deepest  interest  in  his  early  training.  He  placed  him  at 
Mrs.  Colcott's  school,  in  Charleston,  where  he  was  thoroughly 
grounded  in  rudimentary  studies.  As  a  punishment  for  some 
offence  the  school-mistress  once  placed  him  in  solitary  confine- 
ment. After  two  hours,  hearing  no  demonstrations  of  penitence, 
she  opened  the  door  of  the  room  where  he  was  confined,  and 
found  him  drawing  a  ship  on  the  bottom  of  a  wooden  chair  with 
a  piece  of  chalk.  She  was  so  pleased  with  this  drawing  that  she 
kept  the  chair  locked  up  during  her  life,  occasionally  showing  it 
as  a  memento  of  the  early  days  of  the  great  artist. 

In  relation  to  the  first  evidence  of  his  artistic  talent,  Allston 
writes  :  "  To  go  back  as  far  as  I  can,  I  remember  that  I  used  to 
draw  before  I  left  Carolina,  at  six  years  of  age  (by  the  way  no 
uncommon  thing) ;  and  still  earlier,  that  my  favorite  amusement, 
much  akin  to  it,  was  making  little  landscapes  about  the  roots  of 
an  old  tree  in  the  country,  meagre  enough,  no  doubt;  the  only 
particulars  of  which  I  can  call  to  mind  were  a  cottage  built  of 
sticks,  shaded  by  little  trees,  which  were  composed  of  the  small 
suckers  (I  think  so  called),  resembling  miniature  trees,  which  I 
gathered  in  the  woods.  Another  employment  was  the  convert- 
ing the  forked  stalks  of  the  wild  ferns  into  little  men  and 
women,  by  winding  about  them  different-colored  yarn.  These 
were  sometimes  presented  with  pitchers  made  of  the  pomegran- 
ate flower.  These  childish  fancies  were  straws  by  which,  per- 
haps, an  observer  might  have  guessed  which  way  the  current 
was  setting  for  after-life.  And  yet,  after  all,  this  love  of  imita- 
tion may  be  common  to  childhood.  General  imitation  certainly 
is ;  but  whether  adherence  to  particular  kinds  may  not  indicate 
a  permanent  propensity,  I  leave  to  those  who  have  studied  the 
subject  more  than  I  have  to  decide." 


8 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"But  even  these  delights  would  sometimes  give  way  to  a 
stronger  love  for  the  wild  and  marvellous.  I  delighted  in  being 
terrified  by  the  tales  of  witches  and  hags,  which  the  negroes 
used  to  tell  me,  and  I  well  remember  with  how  much  pleasure  I 
recalled  these  feelings  on  my  return  to  Carolina ;  especially  on 
revisiting  a  gigantic  wild  grape-vine  in  the  woods,  which  had 
been  the  favorite  swing  for  one  of  these  witches." 

While  at  school  in  Charlestown  he  learned  to  prepare  oil 
colors,  and  in  his  vacations  locked  himself  in  his  room,  where  he 
commenced  a  picture  of  the  eruption  of  Vesuvius.  When  this, 
his  first  effort  in  oil  was  shown,  his  family  were  so  surprised  by 
its  excellence  that  they  feared  lest  he  might  disgrace  them  by 
becoming  a  painter.  His  step-father,  thinking  to  overcome  this 
dangerous  tendency,  sent  him  to  Newport  to  prepare  for  college, 
under  the  tuition  of  a  Mr.  Rogers.  This  course,  however,  instead 
of  turning  him  from ,  the  pursuit  of  art,  only  confirmed  him  in 
his  determination  to  be  an  artist. 

Of  his  youth,  Allston  writes :  "I  concluded  my  last  letter 
with  the  amusement  of  my  childhood,  my  next  step  will  be  to 
my  boyhood.  My  chief  pleasure  now  was  in  drawing  from 
prints,  of  all  kinds  of  figures,  landscape  and  animals.  But  I 
soon  began  to  make  pictures  of  my  own  ;  at  what  age,  however, 
I  cannot  say.  The  earliest  compositions  that  I  can  remember 
were  the  storming  of  Count  Roderick's  castle,  from  a  poor 
(though  to  me  delightful)  romance  of  that  day,  and  the  '  Siege 
of  Toulon.'  The  first  in  India  ink,  the  other  in  water-colors.  I 
cannot  recall  the  year  in  which  they  were  done.  To  these  suc- 
ceeded many  others,  which  have  likewise  passed  into  oblivion. 
Though  I  never  had  any  regular  instructor  in  the  art  (a  circum- 
stance, I  would  here  observe,  both  idle  and  absurd  to  boast  of), 
I  had  much  incidental  instruction,  which  I  have  always  through 
life  been  glad  to  receive  from  anyone  in  advance  of  myself.  And, 
I  may  add,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  self-taught  artist,  in  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


9 


ignorant  acceptation  of  the  word ;  for  the  greatest  genius  that 
ever  lived  must  be  indebted  to  others,  if  not  by  direct  teaching, 
yet  indirectly  through  their  works. 

"  I  had,  in  my  school-days,  some  of  this  latter  kind  of  in- 
struction from  a  very  worthy  and  amiable  man,  a  Mr.  King,  of 
Newport,  who  made  quadrants  and  compasses,  and  occasionally 
painted  portraits.  I  believe  he  was  originally  bred  a  painter, 
but  obliged,  from  the  rare  calls  upon  his  pencil,  to  call  in  the  aid 
of  another  craft.  I  used  at  first  to  make  frequent  excuses  for 
visiting  his  shop  to  look  at  his  pictures ;  but  finding  that  he 
always  received  me  kindly,  I  went  at  last  without  any,  or  rather 
with  the  avowed  purpose  of  making  him  a  visit.  Sometimes  I 
would  take  with  me  a  drawing,  and  was  sure  to  get  a  kind  word 
of  encouragement.  It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  me,  some  twenty 
years  after  this,  to  remind  the  old  man  of  these  little  kind- 
nesses." 

In  Newport  Allston  made  the  acquaintance  of  Malbone,  the 
foremost  miniature  painter  of  his  day,  of  whom  he  writes :  "I 
became  acquainted  with  Malbone  but  a  short  time  before  he 
quitted  Newport,  a  circumstance  which  I  then  remember  regret- 
ting exceedingly,  for  I  looked  up  to  him  with  great  admiration  ; 
our  not  meeting  earlier  was  owing,  I  suppose,  to  his  going  to 
another  school,  and  being  some  years  older  than  myself.  I 
recollect  borrowing  some  of  his  pictures  on  oiled  paper  to  copy." 

The  new  influence  exerted  over  young  Allston  by  these  men 
tended  to  confirm  him  more  and  more,  and  to  aid  him  in  his  in- 
extinguishable purpose.  Moreover,  the  scenery  about  Newport, 
so  grandly  different  from  that  of  the  low  country  of  South  Caro- 
lina, in  which  his  childhood  was  passed,  stimulated  his  imagina- 
tion and  developed  still  further  his  taste  for  painting. 

While  in  Newport,  engaged  in  his  preparatory  studies,  he 
was  a  favorite  in  the  best  society ;  there  he  met  the  sister  of  the 
celebrated  Unitarian  clergyman,  Dr.  William  Ellery  Channing. 


10 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


This  lady,  to  whom  he  became  engaged,  exerted  a  very  strong 
influence  upon  his  after-course.  Channing  entered  college  a 
year  before  Allston,and  in  "  Dana's  Memoranda"  we  find  the  fol- 
lowing interesting  extracts  of  letters  written  him  by  Allston  at 
that  time  : 

"  The  first  letter,"  says  Mr.  Dana,  "  is  without  date,  and  re- 
lates a  dream  which  Allston  had,  of  walking  slowly  on  the  hill  in 
Newport,  and  seeing  a  spacious  mansion,  overshadowed  by  a 
lofty  elm — nature  and  art  in  rivalry  set  all  off  with  bowers  and 
woodbine — a  fair  lady  in  a  bower,  who  blushes  at  seeing  him, 
then  comes  forward,  and  he  falls  upon  his  knees  before  her, 
while  she  confesses  to  having  perceived  an  attachment. 

"  At  the  close,  he  says :  1  Give  my  love  to  Ned,  and  tell  him 
that  I  have  at  last  finished  "  Mount  Vesuvius."  '  On  the  back  of 
the  letter  is  written  '  Sophomore,'  which  doubtless  refers  to  C.'s 
year  at  college.  This  letter  shows  somewhat  of  the  after-man, 
extremely  youthful  in  character  as  it  is ;  however,  boys  were 
truly  boys  in  those  days  ;  but  then  what  men  they  made  ! 

"  In  a  letter  dated  March  22,  1795,  from  Newport,  he  says : 
'  My  temper  is  naturally  quick  and  resentful  for  a  few  minutes, 
but,  believe  me,  in  the  cooler  time  of  reflection  I  repine  in  secret 
if  I  have  offended.  I  wish  to  make  reparation,  but  a  foolish 
pride,  which  too  many  think  honorable,  stops  me  and  obliges  me 
to  do  a  thing  which  I  inwardly  abhor.' 

" In  June,  1795,  he  writes  :  'I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  I 
am  disappointed  of  my  expectation  of  seeing  you  at  Cambridge 
as  a  fellow-student,  as  my  father-in-law  has  fixed  on  Provi- 
dence College.  Mr.  Taylor,  contrary  to  our  expectation  at  his 
entrance,  as  usher,  is  generally  esteemed,  and  resembles  Mr. 
Hawes  more  than  any  tutor  we  have  had  since  the  departure 
of  that  grave-comic-foolish-wise  man.  Apropos,  I  think  it  my 
duty  to  warn  you  to  guard  your  heart  against  the  fatal  shaft 
of  Cupid,  which  has  so  often  left  dreadful  monuments  of  its 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


11 


triumph  by  the  temptation  of  minds  which, — "0,  horribile  dictu, 
mihi  frigiclus  horror  membra  quatit,  geliclusque  coit  formicline 
sanguis."  Shall  I  proceed,  or  shall  I  forbear?  Well,  now  my 
emotion  has  subsided,  I  will  proceed,  and  without  keeping  you 
in  further  suspense ;  you  must  know  that  Eben  Eichardson,  that 
wonderful  luminary  of  Newport  City,  has  fought  a  terrible  battle 
with  that  little  devil  Cupid,  who  has  vanquished  him  (though 
not  past  recovery)  with  a  dose  of  ratsbane.  But  poor  Eben, 
repenting  after  the  battle,  declared  his  defeat,  and  begged  assist- 
ance of  the  doctor.' 

"  To  the  same,  December  19,  1795,  he  says :  '  I  would  not 
willingly  hurt  any  human  being,  much  less  one  whom  I  had 
called  my  friend.'  (I  remember  his  once  telling  me  that  when 
at  Newport  he  was  fond  of  shooting,  but  that  having  once 
wounded  a  bird,  and  being  obliged  to  wring  its  neck  to  put  it 
out  of  pain,  he  never  fired  at  another.) 

"  In  the  same  letter  he  says,  '  I  thank  you  for  the  satisfaction 
you  express  at  my  intention  of  entering  Cambridge.'  He  then 
asks  for  a  particular  account  of  the  examination,  '  and  what  parts 
of  the  Greek  Testament  and  Cicero'  he  had  better  study." 

Upon  the  completion  of  his  preparation  he  entered  Harvard. 
His  course  under  Mr.  Rogers  had  been  so  thorough  that  the 
college  curriculum  made  but  small  demands  upon  his  time,  so 
that  he  was  enabled  to  devote  several  leisure  hours  daily  to 
painting. 


CHAPTEE  II. 


ALLSTON'S  COLLEGE  LIFE  AT  CAMBRIDGE  AND  EARLY  LETTERS. — HIS 
PICTURE  "  THE  BUCK'S  PROGRESS." — APPOINTED  CLASS-POET  AND 
GRADUATES  WITH  HONOR. — LEONARD  JARYIS'S  RECOLLECTION  OF 
HIM. 

At  Cambridge  Allston  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  Mal- 
bone,  of  whom  he  says  :  "  When  I  entered  college  I  found  him 
established  in  Boston.  He  had  reached  the  maturity  of  his 
powers,  and  was  deservedly  ranked  the  first  miniature  painter  of 
the  country.  Malbone's  merits  as  an  artist  are  too  well  known 
to  need  setting  forth  by  me  ;  I  shall  therefore  say  but  few  words 
on  that  head.  He  had  the  happy  talent  among  his  many  excel- 
lencies of  elevating  the  character  without  impairing  the  likeness  ; 
this  was  remarkable  in  his  male  heads  ;  and  no  woman  ever  lost 
any  beauty  from  his  hand ;  nay,  the  fair  would  often  become  still 
fairer  under  his  pencil.  To  this  he  added  a  grace  of  execution 
all  his  own.  My  admiration  of  Malbone  induced  me  at  this 
time  to  try  my  hand  at  miniature,  but  it  was  without  success, 
I  could  make  no  hand  of  it ;  all  my  attempts  in  this  line  being 
so  far  inferior  to  what  I  could  then  do  in  oil  that  I  became  dis- 
gusted with  my  abortive  efforts  and  I  gave  it  up.  One  of  these 
miniatures,  or  rather  attempts  at  miniatures,  was  shown  me  sev- 
eral years  later,  and  I  pronounced  it  '  without  promise,'  not 
knowing  it  to  be  my  own  work.  I  may  add,  I  would  have  said 
the  same  had  I  known  it.  I  may  observe,  however  (for  I  know 
not  why  I  should  not  be  as  just  to  myself  as  to  another  person), 
that  I  should  not  have  expressed  a  similar  opinion  respecting 


t 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


13 


its  contemporaries  in  oil,  for  a  landscape  with  figures  on  horse- 
back, painted  about  this  time,  was  afterward  exhibited  at  the 
Somerset  House." 

"  My  leisure  hours  at  college  were  chiefly  devoted  to  the  pen- 
cil, to  the  composition  equally  of  figures  and  landscapes ;  I  do 
not  remember  that  I  preferred  one  to  the  other  ;  my  only  guide 
in  the  choice  was  the  inclination  of  the  moment.  There  was  an 
old  landscape  at  the  house  of  a  friend  in  Cambridge  (whether 
Italian  or  Spanish  I  know  not)  that  gave  me  my  first  hints  in 
color  in  that  branch  :  it  was  of  a  rich,  deep  tone,  though  not  by 
the  hand  of  a  master — the  work,  perhaps,  of  a  moderate  artist, 
but  one  who  lived  in  a  good  age,  when  he  could  not  help  catch- 
ing something  of  the  good  that  was  abroad.  In  the  coloring  of 
figures  the  pictures  of  Pine,  in  the  Columbian  Museum  in  Bos- 
ton, were  my  first  masters.  Pine  had  certainly,  as  far  as  I  recol- 
lect, considerable  merit  in  color.  But  I  had  a  higher  master  in 
the  head  of  Cardinal  Bentivoglio,  from  Vandyke,  in  the  college 
library,  which  I  obtained  permission  to  copy  one  winter  vaca- 
tion. This  copy  of  Vandyke  was  by  Smybert,  an  English 
painter,  who  came  to  this  country  with  Dean,  afterward  Bishop, 
Berkeley.  At  that  time  it  seemed  to  me  perfection,  but  when  I 
saw  the  original,  some  years  afterward,  I  found  I  had  to  alter 
my  notions  of  perfection.  However,  I  am  grateful  to  Smybert 
for  the  instruction  he  gave  me — his  work  rather.  Deliver  me 
from  kicking  down  even  the  weakest  step  of  an  early  ladder." 

There  is  an  incident  of  interest  connected  with  this  copy  of 
Vandyke  which  we  may  in  passing  venture  to  give.  When  Cop- 
ley sent  out  to  be  exhibited  in  the  Koyal  Academy  his  picture 
of  a  boy  wearing  a  turban,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  said  to  Mr. 
West,  "The  man  who  painted  that  picture  has  studied  Van- 
dyke." West  replied  that  he  could  assure  him  the  man  had 
never  seen  a  Vandyke.  Both  statements  were  true,  for  while 
Copley  had  never  seen  an  original  Vandyke,  he  had  diligent- 


14 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


ly  studied  this  copy  by  Smybert,  which  had  so  captivated 
Allston. 

Allston  showed  early  in  life  that  his  powers  were  not  con- 
fined to  landscape  or  graver  subjects  of  a  historical  character. 
While  in  college  he  drew  some  very  ludicrous  things  in  water- 
colors,  among  them  were  several  in  a  series  entitled  a  "  Buck's 
Progress,"  of  which  Mr.  E.  H.  Dana  gives  the  following  descrip- 
tion : 

"Dr.  Harris,  Librarian  of  Harvard  College,  owns  the  '  Buck's 
Progress.'  It  was  suggested  by  Hogarth,  no  doubt,  and  is  in 
three  pieces.  No.  1.  The  reddish,  lank-haired  Buck's  introduc- 
tion to  the  town  bucks  at  a  carousal,  in  which  he  appears  in  the 
character  of  a  country  bumpkin.  No.  2.  In  his  room  under  the 
hands  of  his  hairdresser ;  a  shoemaker,  a  very  good  likeness  of 
old  Prior  of  Newport,  who  made  shoes  in  Allston's,  and,  in  my 
school-boy  days,  for  all  good  Master  Bogers's  school  boarders 
and  most  of  the  rest  of  the  school.  He  is  taking  the  measure  of 
the  Buck's  foot,  and  he,  in  raising  it,  has  upset  a  chair  and 
a  bottle  of  wine  and  a  glass,  the  wine  running  over.  Out  of 
another  bottle  he  is  helping  himself  to  a  glass  of  wine.  There 
is  a  tailor  in  the  scene,  and  another  person  untying  the  Buck's 
cravat,  which,  after  the  fashion  of  that  time,  is  as  big  as  a  hair- 
dresser's towel.  No.  3.  Midnight  fray  with  the  watchman,  and, 
coarsely  as  they  are  all  executed,  done  with  a  good  deal  of  spirit. 
The  moon,  just  rising  behind  the  lofty  buildings  which  lie  in 
shadow,  the  light  from  the  lantern  in  front  of  the  tavern,  and 
shining  on  the  brawlers  below,  show,  even  then,  when  a  boy 
freshman,  that  he  had  some  notion  of  the  effect  of  light  and 
shadow.  The  tall  houses  in  shadow  are  not  wanting  in  some- 
thing like  grandeur  of  effect." 

"  With  his  intimate  friends  he  used  to  amuse  himself  with 
getting  up  caricatures  and  many  other  odd  and  humorous  things. 
The  southwest  room  of  the  old  mansion  in  which  he  lived  was 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


15 


then  an  unfinished  apartment,  'filled  in'  with  brick,  and  was 
the  scene  of  a  great  deal  of  fine  foolery,  sometimes  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  whole  family,  old  and  young." 

Allston  graduated  with  honor  and  was  appointed  poet  of  his 
class.  His  genial  nature  endeared  him  to  his  classmates,  by 
whom  he  was  regarded  with  that  reverent  and  generous  consid- 
eration which  is  the  free-will  offering  to  genius.  Full  of  the 
buoyancy  of  health  and  the  impetuous  ardor  of  youth,  he  was  in 
sympathy  with  the  rollicking  rashness  of  the  average  student, 
ready  for  the  tricks  and  sports  incident  to  college  life ;  but  never 
to  a  degree  that  obliterated  that  subtle,  indefinable  influence 
which,  as  a  halo,  encircles  gifted  spirits,  who,  though  physically 
upon  the  common  plane,  are,  in  those  higher  qualities  which  make 
up  the  essential  man,  above  their  fellows.  As  different  associa- 
tions and  interests  separated  Allston's  classmates  in  divergent 
walks  of  life,  this  sense  of  his  ideal  superiority  went  with  them. 
Evidences  of  affectionate  and  high  appreciation  were  constantly 
given  by  those  who  in  school  or  college  had  enjoyed  the  in- 
fluence of  his  companionship,  and  in  later  years  the  common 
suffrage  found  expression  in  Irving's  memorable  tribute  to  his 
character. 

We  give  here  a  few  of  Allston's  letters  during  his  college  life 
at  Cambridge.  The  tone  of  filial  regard  and  affection  toward  his 
stepfather,  evinced  by  these  letters,  shows  his  own  goodness  of 
heart,  and  the  just  and  kindly  nature  of  Dr.  Flagg. 

This  first,  under  date  of  October  21,  1796,  was  written  just 
after  he  entered  college  : 

"  Honored  Sir  :  Your  kind  letter  I  received  a  few  weeks 
since,  by  the  way  of  Ehode  Island,  added  to  the  pleasure  I 
received  from  Mr.  Avery's  letter  that  you  were  all  well,  in  hear- 
ing from  you  myself.  Perhaps  you  may  think  that  my  long 
neglect  did  not  deserve  even  that ;  but  when  you  consider  our 


16 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


retired  situation,  and  the  difficulty  of  knowing  opportunities, 
your  goodness  cannot  hesitate  to  excuse  my  silence.  Mr.  Avery 
has  been  so  kind  as  to  give  me  a  general  invitation  to  spend  the 
vacation  at  his  house,  but  the  bustle  of  Boston  suits  my  disposi- 
tion as  much  less  than  I  expected,  as  my  situation  at  Cambridge 
exceeds  it. 

"The  gratitude  which  I  feel  toward  you  for  your  paternal 
solicitude,  I  hope  the  future  conduct  of  my  life  will  evince. 
The  Doctor  with  whom  I  live  has  shown  a  friendship  for  me 
that  I  wish  may  never  be  forgotten ;  tho'  the  great  distance  I 
live  from  college  makes  my  exercises  rather  disagreeable,  the 
reflection  of  my  situation  makes  me  forget  to  complain.  In 
short,  I  want  nothing  but  your  company  in  Carolina  to  make  a 
wish  vacant. 

"Give  my  sincere  love  to  mamma,  and  likewise  to  my  sisters, 
with  a  kiss  for  Henry  and  Toby.  I  subscribe  myself, 
Your  grateful  and  affectionate, 

"  "Washington  Allston." 

Allston's  letters  to  his  mother  were  less  frequent  during  his 
second  year  in  college,  and  their  infrequency  called  forth  a 
remonstrance  from  his  venerated  tutor,  Mr.  Robert  Rogers,  of 
Newport.  The  innate  nobility  of  character  which  accepts 
censure  without  resentment  is  shown  in  the  following  letter, 
dated  October  28,  1797  : 

"  My  Worthy  Sir  :  Impressed  with  emotions  of  the  sincerest 
gratitude,  I  sit  down  to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  you  for 
the  kind  letter  I  have  just  this  moment  received  from  you. 
Never  before  have  I  felt  such  cruel  sensations  as  I  do  now  from 
reading  those  reproaches  which  are  so  justly  merited  by  my  un- 
pardonable neglect. 

"  That  any  of  my  friends  should  suppose  me  capable  of  one 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


17 


ungrateful  or  indifferent  feeling  toward  them  is  an  arrow  which 
could  not  be  inflicted  more  poignantly  in  my  breast.  But  I  do 
not,  cannot  blame  anyone  for  entertaining  such  an  idea  of  me ; 
my  conduct  in  that  particular  has  given  grounds  too  specious 
hardly  to  admit  a  doubt  in  the  judgment  of  the  most  unsuspi- 
cious ;  but,  as  God  is  my  witness,  no  one  has  a  truer  affection 
for  his  friends  and  relatives  than  I  pride  myself  in  possessing. 
Were  it  possible  that  my  mother  could  see  and  know  the  inward 
feelings  of  my  heart,  I  could  wish  no  other  testimony  to  con- 
vince her  that  the  want  of  affection  for  her  is  the  last  sin  which 
could  obtain  a  residence  in  my  heart.  But,  however  I  may 
deserve  any  of  these  reproaches,  I  cannot  omit  thanking  you 
for  the  solicitous  advice  your  kind  attention  has  honored  me 
with. 

"  It  is  my  greatest  misfortune  to  be  too  lazy,  and  by  the  few 
mortifications  I  have  already  met  with  on  that  account  I  predict 
many  evils  in  my  future  life.  I  have  always  the  inclination  to 
do  what  I  ought ;  but  by  continually  procrastinating  for  to- 
morrow the  business  of  to-day,  I  insensibly  delay,  until  at  the 
end  of  one  month  I  find  myself  in  the  same  place  as  when  I 
began  it.  You,  no  doubt,  w  ill  allow  all  this  to  be  very  candid, 
and  that  I  speak  as  I  should  do,  but  is  it  not  more  probable, 
you  will  observe,  that  these  professions  are  good  as  far  as  they 
are  professions,  but  how  am  I  to  know  you  will  act  up  to  them 
unless  you  practise  them  ?  I  know  it  is  very  easy  to  promise  one 
thing  and  do  another.  We  seldom  find  anyone  who  is  mi  willing 
to  acknowledge  his  faults  and  promise  to  reform ;  but  there  are 
very  few  who  will  resist  the  slightest  obstacle  or  temptation  to 
make  good  his  professions.  The  most  abandoned  profligate  at 
particular  times  will  not  hesitate  to  accuse  himself  of  the  great- 
est atrocities,  and  very  frequently  resolve  to  reform;  yet  no 
sooner  is  he  under  similar  circumstances  than  we  see  him  plunge 

as  heedlessly  into  the  same  vices  as  if  no  such  resolutions  were 
2 


18 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


ever  made.  But,  sir,  I  assure  you  this  is  not,  nor,  I  trust,  will 
be,  the  case  with  me.  I  began  to  practise  before  I  attempted 
these.  Three  weeks  since  I  wrote  to  mamma,  the  Doctor,  and 
my  sister,  some  of  which  letters  for  length  may  serve  for  two 
or  three  each.  And  more,  I  have  made  a  resolution  which  I 
flatter  myself  I  shall  be  able  to  maintain,  to  write  to  Carolina 
every  month,  and,  as  opportunity  offers,  send  them  on.  So 
much,  sir,  I  have  troubled  you  about  myself.    .    .  ." 

Whether  Allston  persisted  in  the  resolution  formed  at  this 
time  we  cannot  tell.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  so  few  of  his 
letters,  especially  those  written  in  his  youth,  have  been  pre- 
served. 

The  next  in  our  possession  was  written  after  an  interval  of 
three  years,  being  dated  June  23,  1800.  It  is  interesting  in  its 
reference  to  the  Commencement  at  Cambridge,  and  his  modest 
entertainment  to  his  classmates,  which,  in  accordance  to  custom, 
he  felt  obliged  to  give. 

"  My  Honored  Sir  :  Yours  of  May  19th  I  have  just  received 
Agreeable  to  your  wish,  tho'  I  have  nothing  material  to  add  at 
present,  I  seize  the  present  opportunity  once  more  to  acknowl- 
edge the  receipt  of  three  separate  remittances  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty  dollars  each.  With  regard  to  my  expenses  at  Com- 
mencement I  cannot  make  any  accurate  calculation.  It  is  usual 
on  that  day  for  those  who  have  exercises  to  perform,  generally  to 
give  an  entertainment,  and  that  entertainment  seldom  comes  short 
of  two  or  three  hundred  dollars,  indeed  some  exceed  six.  But 
as  I  have  no  ambition  to  shine  beyond  my  abilities,  I  have  thought 
proper  to  limit  my  magnificence  to  fifty.  That  sum  I  hope  will 
enable  me  to  entertain  a  small  party  with  some  degree  of  ele- 
gance ;  accordingly  I  propose  to  invite  about  twenty  gentlemen. 
As  I  make  no  pretensions  to  gallantry,  and  am  besides  intimate 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


19 


with  families  who  are  totally  unacquainted  with  each  other, 
whom  I  should  necessarily  be  obliged  to  invite,  I  have  thought 
proper  to  dispense  with  the  company  of  ladies.  The  exercise 
assigned  me  for  Commencement  is  a  poem ;  the  subject  which  I 
have  selected  is  '  Energy  of  Character.' 

"  I  look  now  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Young,  and  anticipate  much 
pleasure  in  returning  with  them  to  Carolina.  As  you  are  more 
acquainted  with  the  expense  of  travelling,  I  have  submitted  to 
you  the  regulation  of  that  article.  Be  assured,  sir,  if  I  prove  ex- 
travagant, I  shall  be  more  so  from  ignorance  than  wilfulness.  I 
am  not  wholly  insensible  to  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  therefore 
shall  not  be  governed  entirely  by  necessity ;  but  I  natter  myself, 
at  least,  in  being  able  to  restrain  their  gratification  within  due 
bounds.  I  wait  your  intended  remittance  with  some  degree  of 
anxiety,  since  the  last  has  not  emancipated  me  entirely  from 
debt,  the  sums  owing,  however,  are  small.  My  duty  to  mamma, 
and  remembering  me  to  all,  believe  me  still, 

"  Your  grateful  and  affectionate 

"  Washington  Allston." 

The  last  of  his  early  letters  is  to  his  mother.  It  shows  that 
his  determination  to  devote  himself  to  art  had  strengthened  with 
his  years.  It  was  not  a  whim  or  a  fancy ;  it  was  based  in  his 
emotional  and  intellectual  nature.  He  was  born  an  artist,  to 
paint  was  with  him  an  instinct,  he  could  not  help  it,  and  all 
influences  to  sway  him  from  the  pursuit  of  art  were  as  idle  wind 
to  the  oak. 

"Newport,  August  12,  1800. 

"  My  Dear  Mother  :  Yours,  dated  July  19th,  was  handed  me  a 
few  days  ago.  I  should  have  answered  it  immediately  by  post,  but 
hearing  of  an  opportunity  by  water  I  have  waited  till  now  for  that. 

"  It  is  needless  to  express  my  feelings  on  account  of  the  Doc- 
tor's illness.    You  know  my  heart  and  its  numerous  obligations 


20 


WASHING  TON .  ALLS  TON 


to  that  honored  man,  and  can  easily  conceive  its  sufferings.  I 
know  not,  my  dear  mother,  how  it  will  be  in  my  power  to  return 
his  services.  In  all  respects  and  at  all  times  has  he  acted  toward 
me  with  the  affection  of  a  father ;  I  cannot  therefore  repay  him 
but  with  the  affection  of  a  son. 

"  I  am  now  at  Newport.  The  town  is  crowded  with  strangers, 
and  gayer  than  I  ever  knew  it ;  but  I  feel  so  little  relish  for  its 
amusements  that  I  fancy  it  will  be  no  great  self-denial  to  comply 
with  your  wishes  on  my  return.  Be  assured,  dear  mother,  your 
request  shall  not  necessarily  be  repeated.  I  will  live  as  '  snug ' 
as  you  can  desire.  I  feel  no  curiosity  now  to  visit  Charleston, 
and  flatter  myself  'twill  be  no  difficult  task  to  keep  out  of  it 
when  in  Carolina.  I  have  become  so  habituated  to  a  country 
life  (for  Cambridge  is  but  a  rural  village)  that  I  shall  think  my- 
self full  happy  enough  in  Waccamaw  or  St.  Thomas. 

"  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  mentioned  anything  about  my 
painting  that  I  suppose  you  have  concluded  I  had  given  it  up. 
But  my  thoughts  are  far  enough  from  that,  I  assure  you.  I  am 
more  attached  to  it  than  ever ;  and  am  determined,  if  resolution 
and  perseverance  will  effect  it,  to  be  the  first  painter,  at  least, 
from  America.  Do  not  think  me  vain,  for  my  boasting  is  only 
conditional ;  yet  I  am  inclined  to  think  from  my  own  experience 
that  the  difficulty  to  eminence  lies  not  in  the  road,  but  in  the 
timidity  of  the  traveller.  Few  minds  capable  of  conceiving  that 
are  not  adequate  to  the  accomplishing  of  great  designs ;  and  if 
there  have  been  some  failures,  less  blame,  perhaps,  is  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  partiality  of  fortune  than  to  their  own  want  of 
confidence. 

"In  a  word,  my  dear  mother,  I  already  feel  a  fortune  in  my 
fingers.  With  what  little  skill  I  possess  at  present,  I  am  per- 
suaded, did  my  pride  permit,  I  could  support  myself  with  ease 
and  respectability ;  but  I  am  content  to  remain  poor  as  I  am  until 
painting  shall  have  been  formally  established  as  my  profession. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


21 


I  have  a  few  pieces  by  me  which  I  intend  sending  on  soon  by 
water. 

"  I  write  by  this  to  sister  Polly,  and  perhaps  a  few  lines  to 
the  Doctor.  Eliza,  I  hear,  is  quite  a  belle.  As  I  am  a  beau, 
tell  her  I  shall  give  her  a  few  lessons  in  the  art  of  heart-catching. 

"Eemember  me  to  all,  and  believe  me  still  your  dutiful,  affec- 
tionate son, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

Following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  of.  Leonard  Jarvis  to 
R.  H.  Dana,  Sr.,  full  of  interesting  details  of  Allston's  college 
life,  and  of  observations  upon  his  character.  Jarvis  was  a  class- 
mate and  warm  friend  of  Allston's.  He  was  a  man  of  high 
character  and  attained  some  prominence  in  public  affairs.  He 
was  a  member  of  Congress,  and  associated  with  Gulian  C.  Ver- 
plank  and  others  in  securing  for  Allston  an  order  from  the 
government  to  paint  pictures  for  the  panels  of  the  Rotunda  in 
the  Capitol  at  Washington,  which  order  though  urged  upon  him 
Allston  declined,  for  reasons  given  in  his  correspondence  with  the 
Committee  appointed  to  confer  with  him  on  the  subject. 

"  My  acquaintance  with  Allston  began  with  our  college  life, 
in  August,  1796.  It  was  reported  that  two  South  Carolinians 
had  joined  our  class,  and  some  curiosity  was  excited  as  to  what 
manner  of  men  they  were.  It  was  at  once  seen  that  they  had 
less  of  the  schoolboy  or  raw  student  about  them,  and  that  they 
were  dressed  in  more  fashionable  style  than  the  rest  of  us.  One 
of  the  two  was  Washington  Allston,  who  was  distinguished  by 
the  grace  of  his  movements  and  his  gentlemanly  deportment. 
His  countenance,  once  seen,  could  never  be  forgotten.  His 
smooth,  high,  open  forehead,  surrounded  by  a  profusion  of  dark, 
wavy  hair,  his  delicately  formed  nose,  his  peculiarly  expressive 
mouth,  his  large,  lustrous,  melting  eye,  which  varied  with  every 


22 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


emotion,  and  complexion  of  most  beautiful  Italian  cast — smooth 
and  colorless,  yet  healthy — all  blending  harmoniously,  formed  a 
face  which  was  irresistibly  attractive,  and  which,  united  with  his 
gentle,  unassuming  manners,  secured  him  the  good  will  of  all 
his  classmates.  Those  who  hated  one  another  most  heartily — 
and  there  were  good  haters  in  our  class — and  who  agreed  in 
nothing  else,  united  in  respectful  and  kindly  feelings  toward 
him.  He  was  also  a  favorite  with  the  officers  of  the  University, 
for  his  deportment  to  them  was  always  respectful  and  gentle- 
manly, although  a  system  of  constant  annoyance  to  the  consti- 
tuted authorities  of  old  Harvard  was  at  that  time  quite  the 
vogue.  He  was  not  distinguished  as  a  scholar,  though  he  always 
appeared  well  at  recitations ;  but  his  poetical  talents  and  his 
genius  for  the  fine  arts  were  soon  discovered,  and  gave  him  a 
high  standing  among  us.  The  first  indications  of  his  power 
over  the  pencil  were  exhibited  in  some  drawings  made  for  Pro- 
fessor Waterhouse,  to  illustrate  some  essay  of  the  professor's, 
intended  for  one  of  his  scientific  correspondents  abroad,  and  the 
first  lines  of  his  writing  which  were  made  public  were  an  elegy, 
half-burlesque  and  half-serious,  upon  the  college  barber  and 
hairdresser  (for  in  those  days  of  queues  and  hair-powder  and 
pomatum,  such  a  character  did  exist),  poor  Galley,  who  was 
found  dead  one  morning  upon  the  steps  of  the  chapel." 

"  Allston  had  a  room  with  Wainwright  at  Dr.  Waterhouse's, 
where  he  also  boarded,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Common,  and 
after  "Wainwright  left  college,  in  our  Sophomore  year,  he  had  a 
room  to  himself  nearer  to  the  colleges,  on  the  north  side  of  the 
main  road  to  Boston.  It  was  in  a  tall,  narrow,  unpainted,  awk- 
ward-looking building,  opposite  the  seat  of  the  late  Jonathan 
Simpson.  His  chamber  was  on  the  first  floor  and  on  the  west- 
ern side  of  the  entrance,  and  he  boarded,  if  I  mistake  not,  at 
Mr.  Bartlett's,  whose  house  was  on  the  same  side  of  the  road,  a 
little  nearer  to  the  colleges.    Here  he  abode  without  a  chum  dur- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


23 


ing  the  remainder  of  his  academic  life  ;  but  he  was  by  no  means 
left  in  solitude.  Edmund  T.  Dana  and  I  used  to  pass  a  large 
portion  of  our  time  with  him.  As  we  both  lived  at  home,  re- 
mote from  the  colleges,  and  had  to  pass  by  Allston's  room  in  our 
journeys  to  and  fro,  it  was  very  convenient  as  well  as  pleasant  to 
make  it  a  stopping-place.  "We  made  ourselves  quite  at  home 
there ;  sometimes  looking  over  our  lessons,  and  generally  passing 
there  the  intervening  hour  that  occurred  between  lectures  and 
recitations.  Sometimes  of  a  cold  night,  after  a  visit  to  our  fellow- 
students  (perhaps  I  had  better  say  our  college  acquaintances), 
we  would  prefer  a  share  of  his  bed  to  trudging  home.  On  one 
occasion  Ned  and  I  happened  to  meet  there  with  the  intention 
of  passing  the  night.  We  could  not  prevail  upon  Allston  to  de- 
termine which  of  the  two  should  stay,  and  as  neither  was  dis- 
posed to  yield,  I  proposed  to  Dana,  as  possession  was  eleven 
points  in  the  law,  that  he  who  first  undressed  and  got  into  bed 
should  retain  it.  He  consented  to  the  proposal,  and  never  were 
garments  slipped  off  more  rapidly.  Ned  beat  me  by  a  stocking, 
so  I  had  to  dress  myself  again  and  plod  my  solitary  way  home- 
ward, of  a  bitter  cold  night.  There  were  two  closets  attached 
to  the  room  intended  for  studies.  In  one  of  these  Allston  kept 
his  fuel,  and  in  the  other  his  clothes,  his  books,  and  his  painting 
implements  and  materials.  His  landlord  was  a  carpenter,  by 
the  name  of  Clark,  called  by  the  students  Don  Clark.  This 
worthy  had  an  exalted  opinion  of  the  talents  of  Allston,  and 
I  well  remember  his  remarks  upon  a  picture  of  Thomson's 
'  Musidora.'  Clark  had  at  times  a  peculiar  simper  resembling 
what  I  have  since  seen  on  the  face  of  that  exquisite  low  come- 
dian, Liston.  With  this  expression,  or  want  of  expression,  I 
know  not  which  to  call  it,  playing  about  his  mouth,  '  I  have  seen 
a  picture,  sir,'  said  he,  1  painted  by  Mr.  Allston.  He  has 
painted  a  woman,  stark  naked,  going  into  the  water  to  wash 
herself.    It  is  as  nateral  as  life.    Mr.  Allston,  sir,  is  quite  a 


24 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


genius.'  The  panes  in  the  window  of  his  chamber  nearest  to 
Boston,  and  fronting  the  road,  our  friend  had  covered  with 
paintings  touched  with  great  spirit.  The  first  was  that  of  a 
country  fellow  walking  at  the  rate  of  six  miles  an  hour.  The 
name  he  gave  to  this  was,  '  Walking  a  Good  Stick.'  This  was 
entirely  a  whim  of  his  own,  and  it  was  followed  up  by  other 
promptings  of  his  own  fancy,  or  by  suggestions  made  to  him  by 
Dana  or  myself,  until  the  window  was  covered  with  a  grotesque 
collection  of  figures  which  attracted  universal  attention.  It  was 
high  sport  to  us  to  see  the  teamsters  on  their  way  to  Boston 
stopping  their  cattle  and  looking  up  at  the  window  with  a 
mingled  grin  of  wonder  and  delight." 

"  He  here  gave  himself  up  to  painting  and  poetry ;  but  it 
was  after  a  hard  struggle  that  he  finally  determined  to  adopt  the 
former  for  his  future  pursuit  in  life.  His  step-father,  who  was 
a  physician,  was  earnest  with  him  to  follow  that  profession,  and 
while  filial  duty  urged  him  to  comply,  his  genius  was  drawing 
him  powerfully  in  the  other  direction.  He  imparted  to  me  his 
struggle  between  duty  and  inclination,  and  I  advised  him  not  to 
hesitate,  but  to  signify  at  once  to  his  friends  his  repugnance 
to  the  course  which  they  had  pointed  out,  and  his  irresistible 
bias  to  the  fine  arts.  This  he  at  length  determined  to  do, 
and  when  the  assent  of  his  friends  was  given  he  seemed  to  walk 
on  air." 

"I  have  never  for  a  moment  questioned  the  judiciousness 
of  the  advice  I  gave.  He  was  created  with  a  powerful  im- 
agination and  an  exquisite  perception  of  the  beautiful,  he  was 
designed  by  nature  for  a  votary  of  the  fine  arts,  and  in  nothing 
else  could  he  have  excelled ;  but  in  these  he  had  only  to  make 
his  selection.  His  strong  propension  was  to  painting,  but  with 
the  same  pains  he  would  have  been  eminent  as  a  poet  or  sculp- 
tor. In  our  junior  year,  a  masquerade  was  got  up  in  our  class 
in  which  Allston  and  I  appeared  as  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


25 


Panza.  I  have  in  later  times  and  in  other  countries  attended 
at  many  a  masquerade,  but  never  have  I  seen  better  masks  than 
those  two.  Allston  carved  the  heads  of  the  Knight  and  Squire 
in  wood,  upon  which  he  formed  masks  of  moistened  paper, 
which  he  painted  when  dry,  and  they  were  most  exquisite  per- 
sonations of  the  characters  they  were  intended  to  represent ; 
they  could  not  have  been  surpassed  in  truth  of  expression.  He 
also  made  for  himself  a  complete  suit  of  armor  from  helm  to 
heel  of  pasteboard,  painted  to  represent  steel.  In  those  days 
he  also  attempted  music,  and  could  make  out  to  scrape  a  tune 
upon  the  violin,  but  he  soon  relinquished  the  bow,  being  satis- 
fied that  he  could  not  excel." 

"  Before  he  left  Newport  to  enter  college,  he  was  enamoured 
of  the  lady  who  afterward  became  his  wife,  and  his  passion  was 
made  known  to  its  object,  I  think,  before  he  had  entered  upon 
his  junior  year.  He  had  a  miniature  likeness  of  her  which  he 
had  drawn  from  memory,  and  many  of  his  amatory  effusions 
of  those  days  were  the  offspring  of  his  love  for  this  lady.  He 
was  fond  of  writing  poetry,  and  productions  of  his  pen  were 
at  times  to  be-  seen  in  the  poet's  corner  of  the  Centinelh  On 
one  occasion  he  sent  some  lines  to  that  paper  which  Major 
Russel  declined  publishing,  because,  forsooth,  in  those  days  of 
high  political  excitement,  there  was  no  place  for  light  reading. 
Our  poet  and  his  cronies  were  very  indignant,  and  Allston  re- 
venged himself  upon  the  Goth  by  sending  to  him  a  political 
article  in  prose,  written  in  the  most  bombastic  style,  and  fairly 
out-Heroding  Herod.  As  he  had  foreseenj  this  was  published 
without  delay,  and  we  had  our  joke  upon  the  deficiency  of  the 
Major,  both  in  taste  and  judgment.  He  copied  a  part  of  what 
he  wrote  into  a  manuscript  written  with  a  great  deal  of  care 
and  ornamented  with  a  variety  of  vignettes,  for  he  never  for  a 
moment  was  unfaithful  to  the  pencil.  When  resting  after  the 
composition  of  a  sentence,  his  pen  would  often  be  employed  in 


26 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


sketching  a  head  or  figure  upon  the  same  paper.  Even  his 
mathematical  manuscript,  as  well  as  those  of  some  of  his  friends, 
have  the  marks  of  his  pencil,  which  he  sometimes  suffered  to  run 
riot  in  caricature.  I  can  even  now  call  to  mind  his  '  Parabola 
personified '  mechanician  drawing  up  water  by  the  bucketful  to 
set  a  huge  water-wheel  in  motion ;  his  God  of  Day,  as  gross  a 
caricature  of  that  personage  as  that  of  Fielding  in  '  Tumble- 
down Dick.'  The  light  of  the  sun  was  signified  by  the  glimmer 
of  a  farthing  candle ;  his  chariot,  a  clumsy,  two- wheeled  cart, 
and  instead  of  Phelgon,  Acthon,  and  the  other  fiery  steeds,  there 
was  a  raw-boned  Eozinante,  '  trotting  about  as  fast  as  other 
horses  stood  still,'  driven  by  a  blackguard-looking  boy,  whom 
Apollo  was  telling  to  '  try  to  catch  the  moon.'  Under  the 
problem  of  how  to  measure  the  height  of  an  inaccessible  object, 
he  had  placed  for  that  object  a  female  figure  representing 
Happiness,  standing  upon  the  apex  of  a  pyramid.  At  the 
annual  examination,  when  the  bigwigs  of  the  land  were  as- 
sembled, the  mathematical  manuscripts  of  the  students  were 
passed  in  review.  Those  among  us  who  knew  of  these  decora- 
tions watched  with  some  attention  to  see  the  effect  they  would 
produce.  Soon  one  of  the  examiners  began  to  chuckle,  and 
he  called  the  attention  of  another,  whose  sides  began  to  shake, 
and  so  the  laughter  ran  through  the  conclave,  the  cockles  of 
their  hearts  being  more  rejoiced  than  they  ever  had  been  in 
the  philosophy  chamber,  as  the  room  was  called  in  which  the 
examinations  were  held." 

"  During  Allston's  college  life  he  was  appointed  to  deliver  a 
poem  at  the  autumnal  exhibition  of  our  senior  year,  which  was 
received  with  great  applause,  and  during  the  following  winter  he 
was  called  upon  to  deliver  a  poem  upon  the  death  of  "Washing- 
ton at  the  University  commemoration  of  that  melancholy  event. 
The  effect  he  produced  was  very  great.  I  have  never  seen  a 
public  speaker  whose  appearance  and  gestures  were  so  eminently 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


27 


graceful,  and  there  was  a  peculiar  sweetness  and  depth  and 
plaintiveness  in  the  tones  of  his  voice.  The  audience  had  been 
cautioned,  on  account  of  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  to  abstain 
from  the  usual  tokens  of  applause,  but  at  several  passages  they 
could  not  be  restrained.  The  murmurs  of  approbation  were 
evidently  involuntary,  and  the  attempts  at  suppression  rendered 
them  still  more  striking,  contrasted  as  they  were  with  the  dead 
stillness  which  had  generally  prevailed,  and  had  manifested  un- 
wonted attention  on  the  part  of  the  listeners.  The  oration  that 
followed,  though  well  written  and  creditable  to  its  author,  was 
coldly  received,  and  the  consequence  was  that  at  the  following 
commencement  the  government  of  the  University  took  care  to 
place  our  friend  in  the  order  of  exercises  so  far  from  the  orator 
of  the  day  as  not  suffer  the  poem  to  destroy  the  oration." 

"  Allston  was  fond  of  reading  and  writing,  but  he  paid  no 
more  attention  to  our  college  studies  than  was  necessary  to 
secure  a  respectable  standing.  Though  not  remarkable  as  a 
plodding  student,  he  was  nevertheless  a  favorite  with  the  most 
studious  of  the  class,  and,  though  not  given  to  riot  or  dissipa- 
tion, he  was  equally  well  regarded  by  those  who  were  then  called 
1  high  fellows.'  Indeed  it  was  very  remarkable  that,  without 
effort,  and  without  derogating  in  the  least  from  the  simplicity 
and  integrity  of  his  character,  he  should  have  been  such  a  uni- 
versal favorite.  His  favorite  reading  were  plays  and  romances, 
particularly  romances  of  the  German  schools,  and  he  would  sup 
on  horrors  until  he  would  be  almost  afraid  to  go  to  bed  until  he 
had  made  sure  that  no  goblin  was  under  it  or  in  the  closet." 

"  When  he  first  entered  college  he  was  seduced  by  the  tinsel 
of  the  Delia  Cruscan  poetry,  and  I  remember  his  selection  of 
some  of  Merry's  verses  for  declamation,  but  he  soon  abandoned 
it  for  the  manliness  of  Churchill.  He  had  also  the  indepen- 
dence to  like  the  poetry  of  Southey  at  a  time  when  the  politics 
of  that  bard,  so  different  from  the  sentiments  preferred  at  a  later 


28 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


period  by  the  poet-laureate,  had  put  his  writings  under  the  ban 
of  the  arbiters  of  taste  in  this  country  as  well  as  England." 

"  Though  abounding  in  the  intellectual  and  the  ideal,  he  was 
a  great  stickler  for  good  eating,  and  it  was  a  red-letter  day  with 
him  when  that  prince  of  epicures,  old  Major  Brattle,  invited  him 
to  dinner.  You  will  hardly  credit  me  when  I  tell  you  that  one 
Sunday,  when  he  had  an  invitation  from  the  Major,  he  ate  no 
breakfast  in  order  that  his  appetite  might  be  keener  and  his 
relish  greater. 

"  He  was,  during  his  college  life,  a  singular  compound  of  diffi- 
dence, I  might  almost  say  bashfulness,  and  of  assurance,  some- 
thing in  the  young  Marlowe  style.  At  a  charity  ball,  in  Boston, 
for  the  benefit  of  a  run-down  French  dancing-master,  where  we 
did  not  expect  to  meet  any  of  our  acquaintance,  Allston  took  it 
into  his  head  to  enact  the  fop.  He  was  dressed  in  the  very 
extreme  of  coxcombry,  and  appeared  quite  at  his  ease  in  the 
multitude  there  assembled.  Yet  in  the  parlor,  and  in  the  com- 
pany of  ladies,  he  would  not  be  sufficiently  at  his  ease  to  do 
himself  justice.  While  upon  his  oddities,  I  may  mention  that  in 
the  cold  nights  of  winter,  not  satisfied  with  the  bed-clothes,  of 
which  'poor  Harry  had  no  lack,'  he  would  place  upon  his  bed  a 
chair  or  two,  in  order  that  he  might  feel  a  greater  weight  upon 
him." 

"  In  the  year  1798  or  1799  there  was  a  great  stir  and  much 
ado  about  nothing  created  by  Professor  Robinson's  '  Proofs  of 
a  Conspiracy.'  Illuminati  and  other  secret  societies  were  about 
to  turn  the  world  topsy-turvy.  All  regular  governments  were 
to  be  overthrown,  and  Christianity  itself  was  to  be  abolished. 
While  the  excitement  was  at  the  highest  the  students  of  Harvard 
were  surprised  at  seeing  upon  the  boards  for  advertisement  in 
the  chapel  entry  a  summons  for  the  meeting  of  a  secret  society, 
and  while  they  were  seeking  to  elucidate  the  mystery,  another 
paper  appeared  in  the  same  place  solemnly  warning  them  against 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


29 


indiscreet  curiosity,  and  denouncing  the  most  dreadful  penalties 
against  anyone  who  should  seek  to  lift  the  veil.  This  was 
followed  by  a  second  summons  in  irregular  verse,  in  which  all 
ingredients  of  a  hell  broth  were  made  to  boil  and  bubble.  All 
these  papers  were  ornamented  with  altars,  daggers,  swords, 
chalices,  death-heads  and  cross-bones,  and  other  paraphernalia 
of  German  romance,  which  were  stamped,  not  drawn,  upon  the 
papers,  which  besides  bore  huge  seals.  All  this  was  the  work 
of  Allston  and  served  for  a  nine  days'  wonder.  Though  this 
was  in  ridicule  of  the  stuff  of  the  day,  yet  Allston  always  be- 
longed to  the  Federal  party,  for  which,  I  presume,  he  had  no 
better  reason  than  Charles  Y.  had  for  preferring  the  Church  of 
England  to  that  of  Scotland,  namely,  that  it  was  the  more  gen- 
tlemanly religion.  Indeed,  he  was  too  far  above  the  worldlings 
to  be  able  to  sympathize  in  party  squabbles,  and  was  too  much 
given  up  to  his  imagination  to  attend  much  to  things  of  this 
earth." 

"  It  is  only  in  this  way  that  his  ignorance  of  a  large  portion 
of  modern  history  can  be  explained.  Walker,  one  day,  rebuking 
him  for  not  making  himself  better  acquainted  with  the  affairs 
of  modern  Europe,  which  it  was  disgraceful  to  a  gentleman  to 
to  be  in  ignorance  of,  Allston  repelled  the  imputation,  and 
insisted  that  he  was  acquainted  with  history.  'Well,'  said 
Walker,  'what  can  you  say  of  the  Treaty  of  Westphalia?' 
'What  can  I  say? 'replied  Allston.  'I  can  say  it  was  a  very 
pretty  treaty.' " 

"It  would  hardly  be  just  to  try  the  young  men  of  1800  by 
the  standard  of  to-day.  Temperance  societies  were  then  un- 
known, very  few  people  were  too  good  to  go  to  the  theatre, 
which  at  that  time  was  frequented  by  more  than  one  minister 
of  the  gospel ;  clergymen  would  dance  at  private  balls,  would 
play  at  cards,  and  would  even  preside  over  the  convivial  boards, 
from  which  they  did  not  retire  until  the  mirth  and  fun  grew 


30 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


fast  and  furious.  They  would  write  prologues  to  plays,  occa- 
sional addresses  for  the  theatres,  and  lampoons  for  the  news- 
papers, and  all  this  without  losing  caste  or  giving  offence  to 
their  parishioners." 

"  Allston  could  hardly  be  expected  to  hold  back  when  par- 
sons led  the  way;  he  loved  the  festive  boards  and  the  social 
glass,  and  was  delightful  when  a  little  elevated,  but  I  never  saw 
him  '  bitch  fou,'  as  Burns  would  deem  it,  or  so  overtaken  as  to 
forget  that  he  was  a  gentleman,  nor  did  I  ever  know  him  to 
drink  enough  to  bring  repentance  in  the  morning.  He  was 
also  exceedingly  fond  of  the  theatre,  and  he  loved  dancing,  in 
which  he  excelled;  but  I  have  no  recollection  of  ever  seeing  him 
take  a  card  in  hand.  Whatever  the  religious  exercises  of  the 
University  may  be  at  the  present  day,  they  were  at  that  time 
not  calculated  to  encourage  religious  emotions.  Our  worthy 
president  had  a  wooden  face,  wore  a  white  wig,  and  had  a 
strong  nasal  intonation,  and  always  repeated  the  same  prayer, 
which  had  nothing  to  recommend  it  on  the  first  hearing.  What, 
then,  could  be  expected  of  its  effect,  milies  repetita?  Under 
these  circumstances  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  sum- 
moning of  the  chapel-bell  should  have  been  rather  irksome,  and 
I  do  not  believe  that  among  the  three  hundred  under-graduates 
of  Harvard,  in  my  day,  twenty  could  be  found  who  would  gain- 
say me,  and  certainly  Allston  would  not  have  been  one  of  the 
score.  But  I  say  as  positively  that  I  never  heard  him  utter  a 
sentiment  or  advance  an  opinion  on  serious  subjects  that  in  his 
riper  and  more  sober  years  he  would  have  had  any  occasion  to 
disavow  in  consequence  of  its  variance  from  what  religion  might 
enjoin." 

"In  my  allusion  to  college  days  I  must  not  omit  to  mention 
the  title  of  '  Count,'  bestowed  upon  Allston  by  his  two  cronies, 
in  jocular  anticipations  of  the  distinctions  which  were  to  crown 
his  genius.    To  this  appellation  he  would  answer  as  readily  as 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


31 


to  his  own  name,  and  it  was  never  entirely  given  up,  either  in 
speaking  to  or  of  him,  by  those  who  had  originated  it.  He 
was  a  member  of  all  sorts  of  college  societies  and  clubs,  one  of 
which  was  a  coffee  club,  instituted  in  our  senior  year,  and  which 
survived  until  he  returned  to  Europe  in  1811.  The  members 
had  each  his  nickname,  and  Allston  hitched  them  into  rhyme  in 
a  song  struck  out  at  heat,  which  was  often  sung  in  full  chorus 
at  our  meetings.  The  rules  of  our  club  were,  that  we  have  no 
rules,  but  to  meet  every  Thursday  evening,  and  have  no  potation 
stronger  than  coffee." 


CHAPTEE  III. 


RETURN  TO  CHARLESTON. — DEPARTURE  FOR  EUROPE. — STUDENT  LIFE 
IN  LONDON. — DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  ALLSTON  AND  MALBONE. — 
ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  FUSELI. — EXHIBITION  AT  SOMERSET  HOUSE. 

Upon  his  graduation  Allston  returned  to  his  native  State 
and  took  up  his  abode  in  Charleston,  where  his  mother  resided. 
There  he  painted  several  pictures.  Prominent  among  these  was 
one  from  "  Paradise  Lost,"  entitled  "  Satan  Kallying  his  Hosts." 
This  picture  indicated  the  steadfast  tendency  of  his  mind.  He 
lived  in  realms  of  the  highest  spiritual  thought.  The  reach  of 
his  imagination  was  ever  toward  mystery,  sublimity,  and  the 
grandly  beautiful.  He  seldom  treated  subjects  belonging  to  the 
ordinary  and  familiar  walks  of  life.  "  Satan  Bally ing  his  Hosts  " 
and  "  The  Handwriting  on  the  "Wall  in  the  Palace  of  the  Baby- 
lonian Monarch,"  mark  the  commencement  and  close  of  a  series 
of  pictures,  conspicuous  as  are  those  of  few  other  men,  for  at- 
tempted delineation  in  the  highest  sphere  of  the  emotional  and 
supernatural.  His  life-work  in  art  was  a  kind  of  pictorial 
mythology.  His  companionship  was  among  the  gods.  "  Uriel 
in  the  Sun  "  and  "  Prometheus  Bound  "  were  subjects  congenial 
to  his  high  imagination,  but  his  gentler  nature  was  not  less  as- 
piring, and  he  loved  to  ascend  on  "  Jacob's  Ladder  "  with  the 
angels,  and  lose  himself  in  the  dazzling  splendor  of  the  infinite. 

Of  his  life  in  Charleston  Allston  writes :  "On  quitting  col- 
lege I  returned  to  Charleston,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  to  meet 
Malbone,  and  another  friend  and  artist,  Charles  Fraser,  who,  by 
the  by,  now  paints  an  admirable  miniature.    My  picture  manu- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


33 


factory  still  went  on  in  Charleston  until  I  embarked  for  London. 
Up  to  this  time  my  favorite  subjects  were  banditti.  I  well  re- 
member one  of  these,  where  I  thought  I  had  happily  succeeded 
in  cutting  a  throat.  The  subject  of  this  precious  performance 
was  robbers  fighting  with  each  other  for  the  spoils,  over  the 
body  of  a  murdered  traveller.  And  clever  ruffians  I  thought 
them.  I  did  not  get  rid  of  this  banditti  mania  until  I  had  been 
over  a  year  in  England.  It  seems  that  a  fondness  for  subjects 
of  violence  is  frequent  with  young  artists.  One  might  suppose 
that  the  youthful  mind  would  delight  in  scenes  of  an  opposite 
character.  Perhaps  the  reason  of  the  contrary  may  be  found  in 
this :  that  the  natural  conditions  of  youth  being  one  incessant 
excitement,  from  the  continual  influx  of  novelty — for  all  about  us 
must  at  one  time  be  new — it  must  needs  have  something  fierce, 
terrible,  or  unusual  to  force  it  above  its  wonted  tone.  But  the 
time  must  come  to  every  man  who  lives  beyond  the  middle  age 
when  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  His  novelties  then 
are  the  refaeimenti  of  his  former  life.  The  gentler  emotions  are 
then  as  early  friends  who  revisit  him  in  dreams,  and  who,  re- 
calling the  past,  give  a  grace  and  beauty,  nay,  a  rapture  even,  to 
what  in  the  heyday  of  youth  had  seemed  to  him  spiritless  and 
flat.  And  how  beautiful  is  this  law  of  nature — perfuming,  as 
it  were,  our  very  graves  with  the  unheeded  flowers  of  child- 
hood." 

"  One  of  my  favorite  haunts,  when  a  child  in  Carolina,  was  a 
forest  spring  where  I  used  to  catch  minnows,  and  I  daresay  with 
all  the  callousness  of  a  fisherman ;  at  this  moment  I  can  see  the 
spring,  and  the  pleasant  conjuror  Memory  has  brought  again 
those  little  creatures  before  me ;  but  how  unlike  to  what  they 
were !  They  seem  to  me  like  spirits  of  the  woods,  which  a  flash 
from  their  little  diamond  eyes  lights  up  afresh  in  all  their  gor- 
geous garniture  of  leaves  and  flowers.    But  where  am  I  going  ?  " 

Among  the  pictures  painted  by  Allston,  previous  to  his  re- 
3 


34 


WASHINGTON  AILSTON 


turn  to  Charleston,  was  a  scene  from  the  tragedy  of  Borabona. 
The  grouping  of  the  figures  in  this  picture  was  of  splendidly 
dressed  tyrants  and  the  slave  Selim,  surrounded  by  black  mutes, 
who  were  introduced  with  much  effect.  He  also  designed  and 
painted  several  scenes  from  "  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  and 
one  from  "  The  Mountaineers,"  in  which  Octavio  figured. 

He  had  considerable  tact  for  caricature,  and  drew  one  picture 
representing  his  French  class  seated  around  a  table,  except  one 
boy  reciting,  the  French  master  holding  a  pig  in  his  hands  and 
directing  the  boy  to  pronounce  "  oui  "  just  like  the  noise  made  by 
the  little  brute. 

Not  long  before  he  left  school  for  the  University,  he  painted 
a  capital  likeness  of  a  St.  Domingo  black  boy,  who  was  one  of 
the  house  servants.  He  was  represented  with  a  liberty  cap  on 
his  head,  ornamented  with  a  tricolored  tassel  and  cockade,  hold- 
ing in  one  hand  a  boot  and  in  the  other  a  shoe-brush.  This  he 
took  to  Cambridge  with  him  about  1796. 

While  in  college  he  painted  "  Damon  and  Musidora,"  from 
Thomson's  "Seasons  "  (this  is  not  the  one  mentioned  by  Jarvis), 
and  also  one  in  oil  of  "  Octavia." 

In  autumn,  1800,  while  in  Newport,  he  painted  a  portrait  of 
Robert  Eogers,  his  old  schoolmaster,  now  in  the  possession  of 
the  Rogers  family. 

During  his  stay  in  Charleston  it  became  so  apparent  that  his 
life  was  to  be  devoted  to  art,  that  all  opposition  on  the  part  of 
his  family  ceased.  It  was  arranged  that  he  should  pursue  his 
studies  in  Europe ;  all  feeling  of  aversion  to  the  profession  in 
which  his  heart  was  so  engrossed  was  changed  to  cordial  acqui- 
escence ;  his  patrimony  was  turned  over  to  him,  and  every  aid 
afforded  to  facilitate  his  departure  for  the  art  centres  of  the  Old 
World. 

Of  the  subject  of  his  early  life  and  prospects,  Allston  says : 
"  There  was  an  early  friend,  long  since  dead,  whom  I  have 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


35 


omitted  to  mention,  and  cannot  but  wonder  at  the  omission, 
since  he  is  one  whose  memory  is  still  dear  to  me.  The  name  of 
this  gentleman  was  Bowman ;  he  was  a  native  of  Scotland,  but 
had  been  long  settled  in  Carolina.  I  believe  I  was  indebted  for 
the  uncommon  interest  he  was  pleased  to  take  in  me  to  some  of 
my  college  verses,  and  to  a  head  of  St.  Peter  (when  he  hears  the 
cock  crow),  which  I  painted  about  that  time.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
it  was  not  of  an  everyday  kind,  for  when  I  was  about  to  embark 
for  Europe,  he  proposed  to  allow  me,  nay,  almost  insisted  on  my 
accepting  a  hundred  pounds  a  year  during  my  stay  abroad. 
This  generous  offer,  however,  I  declined,  for  having  at  that  time 
a  small  income  sufficient  for  my  immediate  wants,  it  would  have 
been  sordid  to  have  accepted  it.  He  then  proposed  to  ship  me  a 
few  tierces  of  rice !  That,  too,  I  declined.  Yet  he  would  not 
let  me  go  without  a  present ;  so  I  was  obliged  to  limit  it  to 
Hume's  "  History  of  England,"  and  a  novel  by  Dr.  Moore,  whom 
he  personally  knew,  and  to  whom  he  gave  me  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction ;  the  letter,  however,  was  never  delivered,  as  the  Doctor 
died  within  a  few  days  of  my  arrival  in  London.  Such  an  in- 
stance of  generosity  speaks  for  itself.  But  the  kindness  of  man- 
ner that  accompanied  it  can  only  be  known  to  one  who  saw  it. 
I  can  see  the  very  expression  now.  Mr.  Bowman  was  an  excel- 
lent scholar  and  one  of  the  most  agreeable  talkers  I  have  known. 
Malbone,  Fraser,  and  myself  were  frequent  guests  at  his  table, 
and  delightful  parties  we  always  found  there.  "With  youth, 
health,  and  the  kindest  friends,  and  ever  before  me  buoyant 
hope,  what  a  time  to  look  back  on !  I  cannot  but  think  that  the 
life  of  an  artist,  whether  poet  or  painter,  depends  much  on  a 
happy  youth ;  I  do  not  mean  as  to  outward  circumstances,  but  as 
to  his  inward  being  ;  in  my  own  case,  at  least,  I  feel  the  depend- 
ence ;  for  I  seldom  step  into  the  ideal  world  but  I  find  myself 
going  back  to  the  age  of  first  impressions.  The  germs  of  our 
best  thoughts  are  certainly  often  to  be  found  there ;  sometimes, 


36 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


indeed  (though  rarely),  we  find  them  in  full  flower,  and  when  so, 
how  beautiful  to  us  these  flowers  seem  through  an  atmosphere  of 
thirty  years.  Tis  in  this  way  that  poets  and  painters  keep  their 
minds  young.  How  else  could  an  old  man  make  the  page  or 
the  canvas  palpitate  with  the  hopes  and  fears  and  joys,  the  im- 
petuous, impassioned,  emotions  of  youthful  lovers,  or  reckless 
heroes  ?  " 

"There  is  a  period  of  life  when  the  ocean  of  time  seems  to 
force  upon  the  mind  a  barrier  against  itself,  forming,  as  it  were, 
a  permanent  beach,  on  which  the  advancing  years  successively 
break,  only  to  be  carried  back  by  a  returning  current  to  that 
furthest  deep  whence  they  first  flowed.  Upon  this  beach  the 
poetry  of  life  may  be  said  to  have  its  birth  ;  where  the  real  ends 
and  the  ideal  begins." 

In  May,  1801,  accompanied  by  his  friend  Malbone,  Alls  ton 
embarked  for  England.  Together  they  visited  the  great  art  gal- 
leries of  London ;  Allston  was  shocked  that  Malbone  had  no 
admiration  for  the  old  masters.  After  viewing  the  examples  of 
Titian,  Veronese,  Rembrandt,  and  others,  then  on  exhibition,  he 
pointed  to  a  portrait  by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  and  said  he 
would  rather  possess  that  than  all  the  other  pictures  of  the  col- 
lection. 

To  a  mind  like  Allston's,  grasping  at  philosophies,  studious  of 
methods,  ever  striving  to  understand  the  principles  by  which 
the  old  masters  produced  their  grand  effects;  to  one  who  had 
learned  to  reverence  them  as  men  whose  powers  had  exalted  and 
given  them  rank  as  a  kind  of  artistic  magi,  adepts  in  the  sacred 
realms  of  art ;  to  him  such  want  of  appreciation  was  inexplica- 
ble, and  the  more  so  as  Malbone  was  a  man  of  acknowledged 
high  ability,  whose  work  had  delighted  him,  indeed  had  largely 
inspired  his  own ;  Malbone's  mind  was  of  a  different  order,  one 
whose  inspiration  was  self -supplied ;  drawn  from  within  rather 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


37 


than  without.  Sentimental  and  impulsive,  rather  than  philosoph- 
ical and  calculating,  his  works  were  the  result  of  intuition  rather 
than  of  study.  Viewing  genius  as  the  power  to  remove  difficul- 
ties in  the  way  of  the  best  results  in  art,  we  may  say  that  in 
some  men  it  is  chiefly  inspiration,  in  others  study.  In  some  it 
is  intermittent,  occasional,  and  unreliable  ;  in  others  it  is  contin- 
uous and  usually  at  command,  with  larger  grasp  and  higher 
reach.  Men  like  Allston,  abounding  in  both,  represent  the  lat- 
ter, those  like  Malbone  the  former.  The  spontaneous  pleases, 
the  deliberate  satisfies. 

Genius  is  strongest  when  it  can  brook  rules  and  grow  despite 
educational  shackles ;  when  it  can  conform  to  conventional 
methods  of  training  and  develop  under  academic  laws.  Such 
was  genius  in  Allston.  It  could  drink  culture  into  itself  and 
expand.  The  severest  schooling  but  ministered  to  its  out- 
growth, as  food  useful,  perhaps  necessary,  to  its  full  develop- 
ment. Ordinarily  culture  is  a  leveller.  Now  and  then  a  man 
is  found  whose  individuality  is  so  marked  that  it  cannot  be 
obscured.  No  degree  of  culture  can  make  him  like  any  other 
than  himself. 

In  most  cases  a  student  in  the  atelier  of  a  great  teacher 
becomes  a  follower,  at  a  respectful  distance,  of  his  master.  His 
peculiarities,  if  he  had  any,  have  been  so  dominated  by  the 
stronger  genius  and  higher  powers  of  the  teacher  that  they  are 
buried ;  they  are  lost,  and  he  is  henceforth  only  an  imitator. 
Had  he  not  lost  his  individuality,  had  his  training  been  confined 
to  that  which  was  best  in  himself,  he  would  have  at  least  main- 
tained some  trace  of  originality,  and  a  feeble  originality  is  pre- 
ferable to  mere  imitation,  however  trained  and  polished. 

Allston  was  stimulated  by  all  influences,  all  schools,  all  prece- 
dents ;  nothing  too  large,  nothing  too  small  for  the  grasp  and 
utilizing  power  of  his  genius.  He  was  one  of  those  whom  noth- 
ing can  overshadow  or  reduce  to  the  common  level.    His  first 


38 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


business  in  London  was  to  prepare  himself  for  admission  as  a 
student  of  the  Royal  Academy.  His  first  drawing  was  from  the 
head  of  the  "  Gladiator,"  which  gained  him  permission  to  draw 
at  Somerset  House.  He  then  made  a  careful  drawing  of  the 
"  Apollo,"  and  submitted  it  to  Mr.  West,  who  was  at  that  time 
President  of  the  Academy.  "West  was  much  pleased  with  the 
drawing,  and  assured  him  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  its  accept- 
ance.   He  speaks  of  West  thus : 

"  Mr.  West,  to  whom  I  was  soon  introduced,  received  me  with 
the  greatest  kindness.  I  shall  never  forget  his  benevolent  smile 
when  he  took  me  by  the  hand ;  it  is  still  fresh  in  my  memory, 
linked  with  the  last  of  like  kind  which  accompanied  the  last 
shake  of  his  hand  when  I  took  a  final  leave  of  him  in  1818.  His 
gallery  was  opened  to  me  at  all  times,  and  his  advice  always 
ready  and  kindly  given.  He  was  a  man  overflowing  with  the 
milk  of  human  kindness.  If  he  had  enemies,  I  doubt  if  he 
owed  them  to  any  other  cause  than  his  rare  virtue,  which,  alas 
for  human  nature,  is  too  often  deemed  cause  sufficient." 

Notwithstanding  his  patrimony,  being  of  an  extremely  cau- 
tious nature,  and  wishing  to  guard  against  the  uncertainties  of 
transit  from  America  in  those  days,  and  the  possible  miscarriage 
of  remittances,  Allston  was  anxious  to  ascertain  whether  by  his 
work  he  could  make  a  living  in  London.  Accordingly  he  showed 
some  of  his  water-color  sketches  to  a  publisher,  and  asked  if  they 
would  be  salable.  The  publisher  said  he  would  gladly  take,  at 
liberal  prices,  as  many  as  he  would  furnish.  Having  thus  pro- 
vided means  of  escape  from  possible  want,  he  took  lodgings  in 
Buckingham  Place,  opposite  Fitzroy  Square,  a  very  low-priced 
quarter,  and  entered  diligently  upon  his  studies.  His  efficiency 
and  ability  were  greatly  commended  by  Mr.  West. 

On  the  walls  of  the  Charleston  Library  Allston  had  seen  en- 
gravings from  the  Boydell  Shakespeare  Gallery.  The  "Ghost 
Scene  "  in  Hamlet,  by  Fuseli,  deeply  affected  him.  On  his  arrival 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


39 


in  England  he  sought  out  Fuseli,  who  asked  him  if  he  was  an 
artist.  "  I  mean  to  be,"  said  he,  "if  industry  will  make  me  one." 
"  If,"  said  Fuseli,  "  I  have  any  skill  in  physiognomy "  (Fuseli 
was  a  pupil  of  Lavater)  "  you  have  more  than  industry  on  your 
side,  but  you  have  come  a  great  way  to  starve."  Alls  ton  replied, 
"  I  have  a  certain  patrimony."  "  Ah,"  said  Fuseli,  "  that  makes 
a  difference." 

Subsequently,  speaking  of  this  interview  to  an  artist  friend, 
he  said  that  Fuseli  made  a  lasting  impression  on  him.  To  the 
question,  "  Why  did  you  not  cultivate  a  man  whom  you  so  much 
admire?"  he  replied,  "Because  I  could  not  stand  his  pro- 
fanity." One  day,  in  Fuseli's  studio,  Allston  asked  him  what 
had  become  of  his  illustrations  of  Milton,  engravings  of  which 
he  had  become  familiar  with  in  Charleston.  Fuseli  pointed 
sadly  to  a  roll  of  canvas  in  the  corner  and  said,  "  They  are 
there."  Allston  mentioned  one  of  them  as  having  made  a  great 
impression  on  him.  Fuseli  exclaimed,  "  No,  you  don't  like 
that ;  you  can't  like  that ;  it's  bad ;  it's  damned  bad !  " 

In  one  of  his  letters  Allston  gives  this  opinion  of  Fuseli :  "  It 
was  a  few  years  ago  the  fashion  with  many  criticising  people  (not 
critics,  except  those  can  be  called  so  who  make  their  own  ignor- 
ance the  measure  of  excellence)  to  laugh  at  Fuseli.  But  Fuseli, 
even  when  most  extravagant,  was  not  a  man  to  be  laughed  at ; 
for  his  very  extravagances  (even  when  we  felt  them  as  such)  had 
that  in  them  which  carried  us  along  with  them.  All  he  asked  of 
the  spectator  was  but  a  particle  of  imagination,  and  his  wildest 
freaks  would  then  defy  the  reason.  Only  a  true  genius  can  do 
this.  But  he  was  far  from  being  always  extravagant ;  he  was 
often  sublime,  and  has  left  no  equal  in  the  visionary ;  his  spectres 
and  witches  were  born  and  died  with  him.  As  a  critic  on  the  art, 
I  know  no  one  so  inspiring.  Having,  as  you  know,  no  gallery  of 
the  old  masters  to  visit  here,  I  often  refresh  my  memory  of  them 
with  some  of  the  articles  in  '  Pilking ton's  Dictionary,'  and  he 


40 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


brings  them  before  me  in  a  way  that  no  other  man's  words 
could;  he  even  gives  me  a  distinct  apprehension  of  the  style 
and  color  of  some  whose  works  I  have  never  seen.  I  often  read 
one  or  two  of  his  articles  before  I  go  into  my  painting-room ; 
they  form  indeed  almost  a  regular  course  at  breakfast." 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  died  before  Allston  reached  London. 
Allston  used  to  deplore  his  loss  in  not  having  known  him  per- 
sonally, for  his  admiration  of  Reynolds  was  unbounded.  He 
had  read  his  lectures,  delivered  as  President  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  from  that  fountain  of  pure  English  had  drunk  with 
wondering  delight ;  wondering  that  a  man  so  gifted  and  affluent 
in  the  products  of  his  brush  should  be  so  surpassingly  effective 
and  brilliant  with  his  pen.  Contemporaneous  and  subsequent 
criticism  has  sustained  this  high  estimate  of  Sir  Joshua's  literary 
merit.  Had  his  power  been  expended  in  more  popular  work,  as 
in  novels,  or  stories  touching  the  ordinary  interests  of  life,  Sir 
Joshua  would  rank  with  the  best  writers  of  his  time.  As  Luman 
Reed,  one  of  the  most  intelligent  patrons  of  American  art,  pith- 
ily said :  "  Sir  Joshua's  lectures  are  not  only  instructive  to  ar- 
tists, but  they  furnish  rules  of  life."  And  when  to  Sir  Joshua's 
literary  attractiveness  is  added  his  fascinating  power  as  a  paint- 
er, it  is  not  surprising  that  Allston  should  have  said  :  "  Had  it 
been  my  happiness  to  have  known  him,  I  would,  by  all  means 
possible  to  me,  have  endeavored  to  ingratiate  myself  with  him." 

Before  leaving  London  Allston  contributed  to  an  exhibition 
at  Somerset  House,  of  which  he  speaks  thus :  "  The  year  1802 
was  the  first  of  my  adventuring  before  the  public,  when  I  ex- 
hibited three  pictures  at  Somerset  House — the  principal  one, 
'  A  French  Soldier  Telling  a  Story'  (a  comic  attempt),  i A  Rocky 
Coast  with  Banditti,'  and  a  '  Landscape  with  a  Horseman,'  which 
I  had  painted  at  College.  I  received  two  applications  for  the 
*  French  Soldier,'  which  I  sold  to  Mr.  "Wilson  of  the  European 
Museum,  for  whom  I  afterward  painted  a  companion  to  it,  also 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


41 


comic,  '  The  Poet's  Ordinary,'  where  the  lean  fare  was  enriched 
by  an  accidental  arrest."  Allston's  versatility  is  shown  in  the 
success  these  comic  pictures  made.  They  must  have  attracted 
considerable  notice  as  the  biographer  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence 
is  quoted  as  saying :  "In  mentioning  American  painters  it 
would  be  unpardonable  to  omit  the  broad  humor,  in  the  style 
of  Hogarth,  in  the  pictures  of  Mr.  Allston." 


CHAPTEK  IV. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  OF  LONDON  GIVEN  IN  LETTERS  TO  FRASER  AND 
KNAPP. — CONTRAST  BETWEEN  LUXURY  AND  SQUALOR. — SOCIAL 
INEQUALITY. — WEST'S  RANK  AS  A  PAINTER. — FUSELI,  OPIE, 
NORTHCOTE,  AND  TRUMBULL. 

Soon  after  Allston's  arrival  in  London,  lie  wrote  to  his  friend 
Charles  Fraser,  a  young  artist  in  Charleston,  the  following  in- 
teresting letter : 

"London,  August 25, 1801. 

"  Were  it  in  my  power,  I  would  certainly  make  an  excuse  for 
having  so  long  delayed  writing  to  you ;  but,  as  I  have  none  to 
make,  I  shall  throw  myself  on  that  candor  which  my  short  ac- 
quaintance with  you  has  encouraged  me  to  expect.  You  have  no 
doubt  anticipated  much,  and  will,  I  apprehend,  be  not  a  little 
disappointed  at  the  account  of  what  I  have  seen. 

"  I  landed  in  this  country  big  with  anticipation  of  every 
species  of  grandeur.  No  city,  thought  I  then,  to  be  compared 
with  London,  no  people  with  its  inhabitants.  But  I  have  found 
London  but  a  city,  and  its  inhabitants  like  the  rest  of  the  world, 
much  in  them  to  admire,  more  to  despise,  and  still  more  to 
abhor. 

"As  to  the  country,  it  is  beyond  my  expectation,  beautiful 
and  picturesque ;  and  the  appearance  of  the  people,  that  of 
health  and  contentment ;  in  short,  every  leaf  seemed  to  embody 
a  sentiment  and  every  cottage  to  contain  a  Yenus.  But  when  I 
arrived  in  London,  what  a  contrast !  Figure  to  yourself  the  ex- 
tremes of  misery  and  splendor,  and  you  will  have  a  better  idea 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


43 


of  it  than  I  can  give  you.  Scarcely  a  luxury  but  you  may  com- 
mand here ;  and  scarcely  a  scene  of  wretchedness  but  you  may 
witness  at  the  corner  of  every  street.  Indeed,  the  whole  city 
appears  to  be  composed  of  princes  and  beggars.  I  had  no 
idea  before  of  pride  unaccompanied  by  some  kind  of  merit. 
But  here  no  one  has  pride  without  fortune.  Indeed,  the  most 
respectable  among  the  middle  ranks  appear  to  have  no  conse- 
quence except  in  boasting  of  the  acquaintance  of  some  one  in 
rank ;  and  among  the  greater  part,  so  shameful  is  their  venal- 
ity, they  will  condescend  to  flatter  the  most  infamous  for  a 
penny. 

"It  is  said  in  their  defence  that  every  man  must  live,  and  in 
so  populous  a  country  one  must  not  be  scrupulous  about  the 
means.  But  I  can  conceive  of  no  necessity  that  should  induce  a 
man  to  degrade  himself  before  those  with  whom  he  cannot  but 
feel  an  equality,  and  whom  he  has  too  frequently  occasion  to  de- 
spise. But  it  is  time  to  conclude  with  this  for  I  know  you  must 
be  impatient  to  read  something  about  the  arts. 

"  You  will  no  doubt  be  surprised  that  among  the  many 
painters  in  London  I  should  rank  Mr.  West  as  first.  I  must 
own  I  myself  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  him  such.  I  left 
America  strongly  prejudiced  against  him ;  and  indeed  I  even 
now  think  with  good  reason,  for  those  pictures  from  which  I 
had  seen  prints  would  do  no  credit  to  a  very  inferior  artist, 
much  less  to  one  of  his  reputation.  But  when  I  saw  his  gallery 
and  the  innumerable  excellences  which  it  contained,  I  pro- 
nounced him  one  of  the  greatest  men  in  the  world.  I  have 
looked  upon  his  understanding  with  indifference,  and  his  imagi- 
nation with  contempt ;  but  I  have  now  reason  to  suppose  them 
both  vigorous  in  the  highest  degree.  No  fancy  could  have  bet- 
ter conceived  and  no  pencil  more  happily  embodied  the  visions 
of  sublimity  than  he  has  in  his  inimitable  picture  from  Kevela- 
tion.    Its  subject  is  the  opening  of  the  seven  seals,  and  a  more 


44 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


sublime  and  awful  picture  I  never  beheld.  It  is  impossible  to 
conceive  anything  more  terrible  than  Death  on  the  white  horse, 
and  I  am  certain  no  painter  has  exceeded  Mr.  West  in  the  fury, 
horror,  and  despair  which  he  has  represented  in  the  surround- 
ing figures.  I  could  mention  many  others  of  similar  merit,  but 
were  I  particular  on  each  I  should  not  only  weary  you  but  write 
myself  asleep. 

"  Of  Fuseli  I  shall  speak  hereafter.  I  have  seen  but  few  of 
his  pictures,  therefore  cannot  so  well  judge  at  present.  They 
are,  however,  sufficient  to  entitle  him  to  immortality.  Indeed, 
his  '  Hamlet '  alone,  were  it  not  for  the  picture  I  have  just 
mentioned,  would  undoubtedly  place  him  in  the  first  seat  among 
the  English  artists.  Another  picture  also  of  his  that  I  admire 
much  represents  '  Sin  Separating  Death  and  Satan.'  The  atti- 
tude of  Satan  is  beyond  improvement  sublime,  and  the  others 
are  such  as  none  but  Fuseli  could  have  painted.  In  short,  it  is 
the  only  picture  I  ever  saw  that  was  worthy  of  being  joined  with 
the  name  of  Milton.  The  following  are  some  extempore  lines  I 
made  on  it : 

' '  Artist  sublime,  I  own  thy  powerful  spell, 
I  feel  thy  fire,  and  hear  the  blasts  of  hell ; 
I  see  thy  monster  from  the  canvas  stride, 
While  chilly  tremors  o'er  my  senses  glide ; 
Thro'  heaving  throttle  vainly  gasp  for  breath, 
And  feel  the  torture  of  approaching  death. 
I  hear  thy  Satan's  rebel  thunders  roll, 
While  awful  tempests  gather  round  my  soul. 
Convulsive  now  I  lift  the  admiring  eye, 
And  now  with  horror  from  his  presence  fly ; 
Still  in  suspense,  as  laboring  fancy  burns, 
I  hate,  admire,  admire  and  hate  by  turns. 

"  Opie  comes  next  in  rank  ;  as  a  bold  and  determinate  delin- 
eator of  character  he  has  not  a  superior.  He  is  surpassed,  how- 
ever, by  Northcote  in  effect.    But  that  is  a  subordinate  excel- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


45 


lence.  Indeed,  were  it  not  the  English  artists  might  well  stand 
in  competition  with  many  of  the  ancient  masters.  You  have 
seen  a  print  from  Northcote's  '  Arthur.'  The  original,  I  must 
own,  is  a  beautiful  thing.  But  Opie  has  painted  the  same  sub- 
ject, and  I  assure  you  the  two  pictures  will  not  bear  a  compari- 
son. You  may  think  I  exaggerate  when  I  say  the  head  of 
Arthur  is  the  divinest  thing  I  ever  beheld.  But  I  assure  you 
it  is  no  less.  His  Hubert  I  do  not  like,  it  is  not  equal  to 
Northcote's.  But  his  two  villains  are  such  as  the  devil  nour- 
ishes in  the  cradle.  They  have  murder  written  on  every  fea- 
ture ;  and  I  cannot  but  think  that  Opie,  like  Salvator  Bosa, 
must  have  lived  among  banditti  to  have  so  admirably  portrayed 
them. 

"  Are  these  all  ?  you  will  ask.  All  indeed,  I  assure  you, 
that  are  worth  mentioning.  I  had  forgot,  however,  the  portrait 
painters.  The  two  first  are  Lawrence  and  Sir  William  Beechy, 
but  even  Lawrence  cannot  paint  so  well  as  Stuart ;  and  as  for  the 
rest  they  are  the  damnedest  stupid  wretches  that  ever  disgraced 
a  profession.  But  I  do  not  include  the  miniature  painters  ;  that 
is  a  line  I  am  but  little  acquainted  with,  therefore  I  am  not  able 
to  judge.  As  far,  however,  as  my  judgment  extends  I  can  pro- 
nounce Mr.  Malbone  not  inferior  to  the  best  among  them.  He 
showed  a  likeness  he  painted  of  me  to  Mr.  "West,  who  compli- 
mented him  very  highly,  1 1  have  seldom  seen,'  said  he,  '  a 
miniature  that  pleased  me  more.'  I  would  mention  also  some 
compliments  which  he  paid  me,  but  I  should  blush  to  repeat 
what  I  cannot  think  I  deserve. 

"Your  friend  White  I  like  very  much.  He  has  a  spice 
of  literature  about  him  which  makes  him  not  the  less  agreeable 
to  me,  who  am  about  (mirabile  dictu)  to  publish  a  book.  By 
the  by,  how  long  do  you  suppose  Trumbull  was  about  his  1  Gib- 
raltar ? '  It  is  truly  a  charming  picture ;  but  he  was  a  whole 
year  about  it,  therefore  it  ought  to  have  been  better.    I  have  no 


46 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


idea  of  a  painter's  laboring  up  to  fame.  When  he  ceases  to 
obtain  reputation  without  it,  he  becomes  a  mechanic.  Trumbull 
is  no  portrait  painter.  By  this  picture  alone  he  has  gained 
credit.  But  it  is  indeed  credit  purchased  at  a  most  exorbitant 
interest. 

"  I  have  lately  painted  several  pictures ;  but  am  now  about 
one  that  will  far  surpass  anything  I  have  done  before.  The  sub- 
ject is  from  the  passage  of  Scripture,  '  And  Christ  looked  upon 
Peter.'  It  contains  twenty  figures,  which  are  about  two  feet  in 
height,  on  the  whole  making  the  best  composition  I  ever  at- 
tempted. The  two  principal  groups  are  Christ  between  two 
soldiers,  who  are  about  to  bear  him  away,  the  high  priests,  etc., 
and  Peter  surrounded  by  his  accusers.  The  other  groups  are 
composed  of  spectators,  variously  affected,  men,  women,  and 
children." 

"  Next  week  I  shall  apply  for  admission  into  the  Academy. 
The  very  first  figure  that  I  drew  from  plaster,  Mr.  West  said, 
would  admit  me.  It  was  from  the  £  Gladiator.'  He  was  aston- 
ished when  I  told  him  it  was  my  first,  and  paid  a  compliment 
(too  pretty  to  be  repeated)  to  the  correctness  of  my  eye.  He  also 
observed  that  I  not  only  preserved  the  form,  but,  what  few  artists 
think  of,  the  expression  of  my  subject.  You  see  by  this  account 
that  I  am  not  very  modest.  Indeed  I  despise  the  affectation  of 
it.  But  my  principal  motive  in  being  thus  particular  is  to  en- 
courage you  by  proving  that  much  greater  men  than  either  you 
or  I  were  once  no  better  than  ourselves.  And  could  I  convince 
you,  by  flattering  myself,  of  the  dignity  of  your  powers,  I  would 
boast  as  much  again.  Believe  me,  sir,  it  is  no  proof  of  vanity 
that  a  man  should  suppose  himself  adequate  to  more  than  he  has 
already  performed.  Confidence  is  the  soul  of  genius.  Great 
talents  to  a  timid  mind  are  of  as  little  value  to  the  owner  as  gold 
to  a  miser,  who  is  afraid  to  use  it.  Great  men  rise  but  by  their 
own  exertions.    It  is  the  fool's  and  the  child's  pusillanimity 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


47 


alone  that  are  boosted  up  to  fame.  How  are  we  to  learn  our  own 
powers  without  a  trial  ?  Accident  will,  indeed,  sometimes  dis- 
cover them ;  but  are  we  all  to  wait  for  accident  ?  No,  sir  ;  the 
principle  of  self-love  was  implanted  in  us  to  excite  emulation, 
and  he  violates  a  law  of  nature  who  yields  to  despair  without  a 
previous  trial  of  his  powers.  A  little  seasonable  vanity  is  the 
best  friend  we  can  have. 

"  Not  that  silly  conceit  founded  on  adventitious  advantages, 
which  exalts  us  but  in  our  own  imagination.  But  I  mean  the 
confidence  which  arises  from  a  determination  to  excel,  and  is 
nourished  by  a  hope  of  future  greatness.  The  great  Bufifon 
thought  there  were  but  three  geniuses  in  the  world — two  besides 
himself.  And  what  was  the  consequence  ?  His  application  was 
indefatigable.  He  was  a  genius  and  ought  to  surpass  other  men. 
He  did  surpass  them.  Caesar,  giving  an  account  of  his  conquest, 
said,  '  Veni,  vidi,  vici.'  No  man,  perhaps,  had  so  great  an 
opinion  of  his  own  strength,  and  no  man  was  capable  of  more. 
"When  a  man  is  thus  confident  he  is  not  to  be  discouraged  by 
difficulties.  But  his  exertions  rather  strengthen  as  they  in- 
crease. It  was  a  saying  of  Alcibiades,  and  I  believe  a  very  just 
one,  that  'When  souls  of  a  certain  order  did  not  perform  all  they 
wished,  it  was  because  they  had  not  courage  to  attempt  all  they 
could.' 

"Wrhy,  then,  my  friend,  should  you  despair?  You  have 
talents ;  cultivate  them — and  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  name 
of  Fraser  may  one  day  be  as  celebrated  as  those  of  Kaphael  and 
Michael  Angelo.  Resolve  to  shine,  and,  believe  me,  the  little 
crosses  of  to-day  will  vanish  before  the  more  substantial  joys  of 
to-morrow. 

"In  the  meantime  let  me  advise  you  to  beware  of  love.  Love 
and  painting  are  two  opposite  elements;  you  cannot  live  in 
both  at  the  same  time.  Be  wise  in  time,  and  let  it  not  be  said, 
when  future  biographers  shall  record  your  life  that,  '  Mr.  Fraser 


48 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


promised  much,  his  genius  gave  symptoms  of  expansion  beyond 
mortality,  but  love,  alas  !  untimely  love  had  set  a  seal  upon  his 
fame.  His  soul,  which  was  just  about  to  grasp  a  world,  is  now 
imprisoned  within  the  bosom  of  a  girl.' 

"  '  Where  now  are  those  mighty  schemes  which  were  to  ele- 
vate him  to  the  summit  of  fame  ?  Where  are  those  characters 
which  were  to  inscribe  the  name  of  Eraser  on  the  front  of  time  ? 
Alas !  a  woman's  tears  have  washed  them  from  his  memory. 
No  longer  is  he  anxious  to  be  distinguished  from  the  crowd ; 
no  longer  does  the  spirit  of  Michael  Angelo  point  the  way  to 
heaven  ;  he  is  blessed  with  a  smile  from  his  mistress,  his  ambi- 
tion is  contented ;  he  seeks  no  other  heaven  than  the  bed  of 
roses  on  her  bosom.' 

"  No,  Eraser,  let  this  not  be  said  of  you.  Love  in  its  place  I 
revere  ;  but  it  is  not  at  all  times  to  be  indulged.  There  are  many 
beautiful  girls  in  Charleston,  but  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo 
are  still  more  beautiful  than  they. 

"Believe  me,  with  sincerity,  your  friend, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

In  this  letter  to  Fraser,  Allston's  characterization  of  the  ma- 
jority of  portrait  painters  in  London  is  very  remarkable.  "  They 
are  the  damnedest  stupid  wretches  that  ever  disgraced  a  profes- 
sion." This  rather  profane  expletive  might  pass  unnoticed  from 
an  ordinary  man,  but  from  Allston  it  is  a  surprise.  From  his 
most  intimate  friends,  and  from  the  whole  range  of  his  corre- 
spondence, if  we  except  this  letter,  we  can  discover  no  instance 
where  his  sense  of  propriety  seems  to  have  been  off  guard.  We 
may  conclude  from  this  that  the  intimacy  between  Allston  and 
Fraser  was  so  close  as  to  obliterate  barriers  of  ordinary  circum- 
spection. It  would  be  interesting  to  know  more  of  one  who 
could  find  his  way  through  all  defences  to  the  inner  life  and 
thought  of  his  friend. 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


49 


Two  other  interesting  letters,  written  from  London  to  his 
friend  Knapp,  we  give  below  : 

"  London,  July  28,  1803. 

"  Dear  Knapp  :  The  relief  of  confession  is  always  so  great 
that  I  know  not  whether  we  do  not  frequently  what  is  wrong 
for  the  pleasure  of  acknowledging  it,  as  an  epicure  will  often 
go  without  food  for  the  increasing  gratification  of  his  appetite. 
At  least  so  I  am  willing  you  should  account  for  my  neglect. 
Besides,  I  may  also  lay  claim  to  another  motive — the  pleasure 
of  undeceiving  a  friend  where  circumstances  may  have  induced 
him  to  doubt  our  attachment.  But,  however  agreeable  the  last 
may  be,  I  cannot  assign  it  here  as  a  serious  motive,  for  in  that 
case  I  should  suppose  you  (which  I  am  far  from  thinking)  both 
ignorant  and  suspicious  of  my  character.  My  silence,  I  dare  say, 
you  will  attribute  to  laziness,  and  you  know  me  too  well  to  ex- 
pect that  I  shall  deny  it ;  you  will  therefore  excuse  me  if  I  do 
not  attempt  a  thorough  vindication. 

"  Your  letter,  by  Wyre,  I  have  received.  You  complain  much 
of  stagnation,  but  the  activity  of  thought  you  display  in  describ- 
ing your  situation  goes  very  little  toward  convincing  me  that 
your  complaint  is  serious ;  and  unless  I  should  consider  you  as 
one  of  those  unfortunate  gentlemen  who  fancy  themselves  oysters, 
while  they  are  reasoning  like  philosophers,  I  must  still  hold  to 
the  opinion  that  you  were  possessed  of  the  same  feelings,  that 
you  are  the  same  acute  observer,  and  the  same  poet,  as  when  I 
left  you.  Your  observation  about  critics  may  not  be  confined  to 
America.  I  have  found  it  applicable  more  particularly  in  Lon- 
don. There  are  indeed  a  few  daring  spirits  who  judge  for  them- 
selves ;  but  of  the  few  who  dare,  there  are  still  fewer  whose  judg- 
ment is  sanctioned  by  their  candor  or  their  taste.  It  is  sufficient, 
however,  to  be  received  that  an  opinion  is  pronounced  with  bold- 
ness, as  every  one  is  willing,  when  done,  to  reverence  what  he  had 

the  courage  to  attempt. 
4 


50 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


"  Neither  do  I  think  it  should  be  confined  to  London.  For 
when  we  reflect  that  to  judge  with  propriety  the  critic  should  be 
enabled  to  incorporate  his  mind  with  his  author,  it  is  not  so 
wonderful  that  so  few  should  be  fond  of,  as  that  so  many  should 
be  capable  of,  judging  anywhere.  I  hope,  however,  you  were  not 
led  to  the  observation  alluded  to  under  any  apprehension  for 
yourself.  If  you  were,  I  take  the  liberty  to  say  you  were  wrong ; 
for  an  original  genius  will  command  attention  at  least,  if  not 
admiration,  among  any  people ;  and  that  such  is  yours  you  will 
not  think  it  flattery  if  I  declare.  This  critical  timidity  I  appre- 
hend, will  continue  to  increase  in  every  society  where  the  literary 
condidates  are  themselves  afraid.  When  a  man  undertakes  a 
great  design,  and  expresses  a  doubt  whether  he  shall  be  success- 
ful, we  are  always  ready  to  commend  his  modesty ;  but  we  lose 
that  admiration  of  his  powers  which  a  proper  confidence  will 
never  fail  to  inspire.  Let  modesty  be  considered  in  an  agreeable 
light,  but  only  as  a  buoy  on  the  ocean  of  literature,  to  warn  each 
adventurer  of  the  wreck  beneath  it.  By  you,  my  friend,  it 
always  has  been,  and  I  hope  always  will  be,  considered  as  the 
most  graceful  ornament  of  private  life.  I  only  request  that  you 
would  lay  it  aside  in  the  literary  world. 

"  I  have  made  these  observations  under  a  persuasion  that  you 
will  aspire  to  salute  the  great  toe  of  the  holy  Pope  Apollo,  or,  in 
other  words,  that  you  had  either  begun  or  intended  to  begin  a 
poem.  You  will  do  right  not  to  neglect  your  profession.  But 
you  should  never  forget  what  you  owe  to  the  future  fame  of 
your  country  ;  you  should  never  forget  that  the  muses  who 
nursed  you  and  watched  round  your  cradle  are  now  mystically 
anticipating  the  future  reputation  of  their  favorite,  and  though 
they  behold  the  scythe  of  Death  level  him  in  his  course,  still 
hoping  to  enjoy  the  never-dying  glory  of  his  labors. 

"  You  were  so  good  as  to  give  me  some  advice  in  your  last, 
for  which  I  thank  you.    This  you  may  consider  only  as  a  re- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


51 


turn.  But  I  offer  it  with  sincerity ;  and  would  urge  it  with 
effect,  if  it  should  be  necessary.  Your  powers,  my  friend,  are 
such  as  heaven  has  bestowed  on  few;  and  you  have  already 
given  no  little  promise  that  they  were  not  given  in  vain ;  let  not 
that  promise  be  forgotten,  or  ever  hereafter  remembered  with 
regret.  What  think  you  of  a  poem  in  the  manner  of  Spenser  ? 
It  is  not  a  popular  mode  of  versification,  and  the  simplicity  of 
his  style  (at  least  as  much  as  Beattie  has  adopted)  is  admirably 
suited  to  the  wildness  of  Indian  story.  Not  that  I  would  have 
you  imitate  him  in  preference  to  writing  from  yourself,  for  your 
own  style  has  a  decided  character,  and  one  that  I  should  be 
sorry  you  should  change ;  but  I  mean  only  that  you  should 
write  in  the  same  stanzas  and  adopt  some  of  his  words.  How- 
ever, in  whatever  metre,  in  whatever  words,  I  beg  you  will  write. 
I  have  not  forgotten  your  1  Wacoon  chanting  from  some  view- 
less cliff.'  By  the  by,  I  never  answered  your  poetical  letter 
which  I  received  last  winter.  My  reason  is  my  hearing  after- 
ward you  had  sailed  for  Europe. 

"  Mr.  Derby,  who  will  take  charge  of  this  letter,  goes  sooner 
than  I  expected,  so  I  will  break  off  here  and  write  in  a  few  days 
in  continuation.    I  go  to  France  in  about  two  months." 

"London,  August  24,  1803. 
"  Dear  Knapp  :  As  I  promised  you  a  letter  in  continuation 
of  my  last,  I  will  resume  a  subject  in  which  I  feel  no  little  inter- 
est. The  high  opinion  I  entertain  of  your  talents  may  be  an  ex- 
cuse (if  you  should  deem  one  necessary)  for  my  boring  you  to  ex- 
ert them.  Do  not  suppose  I  think  you  wanting  in  confidence  or 
enthusiasm,  as  a  man  of  genius  I  know  you  possess  them  both  ; 
but  you  may,  probably,  weigh  too  scrupulously  the  effect  of  your 
labor  in  America.  It  is,  therefore,  that  I  would  urge  the  exer- 
tion of  your  powers — of  powers  capable  of  the  sublimest  flights 
in  the  regions  of  fancy.    If  you  will  not  write  for  yourself,  at 


52 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


least  write  for  your  country ;  and  should  the  critics  attack  you, 
answer  them  in  the  language  of  Euripides,  when  the  Athenians 
criticised  him,  '  I  do  not  compose  my  works  in  order  to  be  cor- 
rected by  you;  but  to  instruct  you.' 

"  I  do  not  see  why  every  author  is  not  adequate  to  the  judg- 
ing of  his  own  performance.  Surely  the  mind  which  is  capable 
of  conceiving  a  great  plan  may  also  possess  an  equal  power  to 
analyze  its  principles.  The  affection  which  parents  feel  for  their 
offspring  I  know  is  opposed  to  it ;  but  without  the  severity  of 
Virgil,  a  father  may  obtain  a  temporary  ignorance  of  his  child  by 
sending  him  away.  Then  it  'may  be  urged  a  return  would  nat- 
urally increase  his  affection.  True ;  but  the  same  novelty  that 
displays  the  accomplishments  will  discover  the  defects  of  his  off- 
spring. Strong  memories  stand  likewise  in  the  way  of  this ;  but 
Pope  says  men  of  genius  have  short  memories.  Whether  true  or 
false,  I  will  not  undertake  to  determine.  I  am  satisfied  to  answer 
that  very  retentive  memories  have  been  rare,  and  many  geniuses 
have  been  remarkable  for  their  absence ;  besides,  a  man  of  great 
memory  can  never  be  alone ;  he  is  always  in  company  with  the 
thoughts  of  other  men. 

"In  reply  to  all  this,  you  will  naturally  ask  what  I  have  done. 
I  cannot  answer  that  I  have  done  anything,  but  I  mean  to  do 
something.  My  profession  will  always  be  painting,  but  I  have 
not  serenaded  the  Muses  so  many  cold  wintry  nights  for  noth- 
ing ;  they  shall  grant  me  a  favor  before  I  die.  The  '  notable 
plot  for  a  tragedy,'  you  allude  to,  I  have  with  many  alterations 
completed.  The  dialogue,  however,  is  still  unfinished.  But  I 
resumed  it  not  long  since,  and  have  advanced  in  it  considerably, 
so  that  I  hope,  ere  many  moons,  the  voice  of  Melpomene  will 
decide  its  fate.  I  will  quote  from  it  an  address  to  the  moon, 
by  the  principal  female  character.  She  is  destined  to  move  in  a 
conspicuous  sphere,  and  I  intend  her  to  represent  the  combina- 
tion of  a  masculine  mind  and  an  ambitious  spirit  with  vehement 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


53 


passions,  nor  yet  destitute  of  feminine  delicacy.  Ambition,  how- 
ever, is  her  predominant  feature.  How  far  the  address  is  in 
character,  I  leave  you  to  judge. 

'TO  THE  MOON. 

«  Olympia,  pale  queen  of  mystery,  I  hail  thy  beams. 
Now  all  is  dark  save  here  and  there  to  view, 
Where  mid  thy  dim  and  solemn  empire  rise 
Vast  rocks  and  woods  and  towers  and  gorgeous  towns. 
So  o'er  the  shadowy  regions  of  my  soul 
Hope's  mystic  rays  reveal  the  dusky  forms 
Of  Fancy's  wild  creation.    To  thy  power, 
O  potent  sorceress,  I  yield  my  soul. 
Watch  o'er  my  thoughts  and  round  my  glowing  brain, 
While  darkness  veils  in  dread  sublimity, 
Pour  thy  majestic  visions  ;  for  to  thee, 
Alone  to  thee,  belongs  the  mighty  charm 
That  swells  the  heart  in  towering  confidence, 
Scorning  the  coward  prudence  of  the  world 
To  meet  the  vast  conceptions  of  the  mind.' 

"  I  believe  it  has  been  the  case  with  many  who  have  con- 
ceived great  plans,  which  have  been  rendered  abortive  by  the 
opposite  opinions  of  those  they  live  with,  that  they  only  wanted 
the  confidence  which  solitude  inspires  to  carry  them  to  perfec- 
tion. I  speak  of  all  plans,  whether  good  or  bad.  A  man  in 
society  and  a  man  alone  are  two  different  beings.  It  is  unfortu- 
nate, however,  for  the  world  that  so  many  have  not  felt  the  want 
of  this  solitary  confidence.  It  would  be  a  curious  speculation  to 
calculate  the  mischief  that  many  villains  would  make  were  they 
not  restrained  by  the  fears  awakened  by  virtuous  examples.  I 
will  quote  one  more  passage  by  the  same  character,  simply  as 
expressive  of  the  same  energy. 

"  She  replies  to  the  Prince,  who  is  her  lover  and  hints 
at  making  her  his  mistress.    Her  indignation  is  not  more  in- 


54 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


spired  by  love  than  ambition,  for  her  principal  object  is  his 
throne. 

 *  to  purchase  love  ? 

Oh,  blasphemy  to  love.    As  soon,  mean  reptile, 
Mayst  thou  purchase  life  and  bribe  the  worms 
That  revel  in  thy  grave  their  feasts  forego, 
And  weave  their  volumes  into  flesh  again.' 

"  The  second  line,  you  will  perceive,  is  defective  in  measure, 
but  it  will  be  corrected  in  due  time.  I  have  not  time  to  add 
another  line.  You  will  excuse  my  abrupt  conclusion,  and,  be- 
lieve me,  your  friend, 

"  Washington  Allston." 


CHAPTEK  V. 


WITH  VANDERLYN  IN  PARIS. — IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  OLD  MASTERS. — 
HIS  PREFERENCE  FOR  THE  GREAT  VENETIANS.— THEORIES  OF 
PAINTING.  —  JOURNEY  TO  ITALY.  —  STUDIOUS  APPLICATION  TO 
WORK. — RAPHAEL  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

After  a  comparatively  brief  stay  in  London  Allston,  accom- 
panied by  Vanderlyn,  went  to  Paris.  It  was  during  the  exciting 
period  of  the  wars  of  Napoleon.  Here  he  became  a  constant  and 
diligent  student  in  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre. 

Never  before,  never  since,  has  there  been  gathered  into  one 
collection  so  many  masterpieces  of  art  as  were  to  be  seen  in  the 
Louvre  when  Allston  and  Vanderlyn  visited  it.  These  trophies 
of  Napoleon's  conquests  throughout  Europe  were  the  best  works 
of  the  greatest  masters.  Subsequently  many  were  returned  to 
their  rightful  owners,  and  still  the  exhibition  of  the  Louvre  is 
justly  considered  the  finest  in  the  world.  In  his  "  Lectures  on 
Art,"  Allston  writes  of  the  impression  made  upon  him  by  this 
splendid  collection  as  follows : 

"Titian,  Tintoret,  and  Paul  Veronese  absolutely  enchanted 
me,  for  they  took  away  all  sense  of  subject.  When  I  stood  before 
*  The  Peter  Martyr,'  '  The  Miracle  of  the  Slave,'  and  *  The  Mar- 
riage of  Cana,'  I  thought  of  nothing  but  the  gorgeous  concert  of 
colors,  or  rather  of  the  indefinite  forms  (I  cannot  call  them  sen- 
sations) of  pleasure  with  which  they  filled  the  imagination.  It 
was  the  poetry  of  color  which  I  felt,  procreative  in  its  nature, 
giving  birth  to  a  thousand  things  which  the  eye  cannot  see,  and 
distinct  from  their  cause.    I  did  not,  however,  stop  to  analyze 


56 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


my  feelings — perhaps  at  that  time  I  could  not  have  done  it.  I 
was  content  with  my  pleasure  without  seeking  the  cause.  But 
now  I  understand  it,  and  think  I  understand  why  so  many  great 
colorists,  especially  Tintoret  and  Paul  Veronese,  gave  so  little 
heed  to  the  ostensible  stories  of  their  compositions.  In  some  of 
them,  '  The  Marriage  of  Cana,'  for  instance,  there  is  not  the 
slightest  clue  given  by  which  the  spectator  can  guess  at  the  sub- 
ject. They  addressed  themselves,  not  to  the  senses  merely,  as 
some  have  supposed,  but  rather  through  them  to  that  region  (if 
I  may  so  speak)  of  the  imagination  which  is  supposed  to  be  un- 
der the  exclusive  dominion  of  music,  and  which,  by  similar  ex- 
citement, they  caused  to  teem  with  visions  that  ' lap  the  soul  in 
Elysium.'  In  other  words  they  leave  the  subject  to  be  made 
by  the  spectator,  provided  he  possesses  the  imaginative  faculty  ; 
otherwise  they  will  have  little  more  meaning  to  him  than  a  calico 
counterpane. 

"  I  am  by  nature,  as  it  respects  the  arts,  a  wide  liker.  I  can- 
not honestly  turn  up  my  nose  even  at  a  piece  of  still  life,  since, 
if  well  done,  it  gives  me  pleasure.  This  remark  will  account  for 
otherwise  strange  transitions.  I  will  mention  here  a  picture  of  a 
wholly  different  kind,  which  then  took  great  hold  of  me,  by  Lo- 
dovico  Carracci.  I  do  not  remember  the  title,  but  the  subject 
was  the  body  of  the  Virgin  borne  for  interment  by  four  apostles. 
The  figures  are  colossal ;  the  tone  dark,  and  of  tremendous  depth 
of  color.  It  seemed,  as  I  looked  at  it,  as  if  the  ground  shook 
under  their  tread,  and  the  air  were  darkened  by  their  grief. 

"I  may  here  notice  a  false  notion  which  is  current  among 
artists,  in  the  interpretation  they  put  on  the  axiom  that  '  some- 
thing should  always  be  left  to  the  imagination,'  viz.,  that  some 
parts  of  a  picture  should  be  left  unfinished.  The  very  statement 
betrays  its  unsoundness,  for  that  which  is  unfinished  must  nec- 
essarily be  imperfect;  so  that,  according  to  this  rule,  imper- 
fection is  made  essential  to  perfection.    The  error  lies  in  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


57 


phrase,  1  left  to  the  imagination,'  and  it  has  filled  modern  art 
with  random  flourishes  of  no  meaning.  If  the  axiom  be  intended 
to  prevent  the  impertinent  intrusion  of  subordinate  objects  (the 
faults  certainly  of  a  mean  practice),  I  may  observe  that  the  rem- 
edy is  no  remedy,  but  rather  a  less  fault  substituted  for  a 
greater.  "Works  of  a  high  order,  aspiring  to  the  poetical,  cannot 
make  good  their  pretensions  unless  they  do  affect  the  imagina- 
tion ;  and  this  should  be  the  test — that  they  set  to  work,  not  to 
finish  what  is  less  incomplete,  but  to  awaken  images  congenial  to 
the  compositions,  but  not  in  them  expressed;  an  effect  that 
never  was  yet  realized  by  misrepresenting  anything.  If  the  ob- 
jects introduced  into  a  picture  keep  their  several  places  as  well 
in  the  deepest  shadow  as  in  the  light,  the  general  effect  will  suf- 
fer nothing  by  their  truth ;  but  to  give  the  whole  truth  in  the 
midnight  as  well  as  in  the  daylight,  belongs  to  a  master." 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  Gallery  of  the  Louvre  was  ever 
more  faithfully  studied  than  by  Allston.  He  devoted  himself 
almost  exclusively  to  the  old  masters,  toward  whom  his  allegi- 
ance never  wavered. 

Vanderlyn,  his  most  intimate  friend  during  his  stay  in  Paris, 
was  the  protege  of  Aaron  Burr  ;  he  distinguished  himself  by  his 
celebrated  picture  of  "  Marius  amid  the  ruins  of  Carthage,"  and 
his  beautiful  rendering  of  "  Ariadne."  For  the  former,  which 
was  exhibited  in  Paris,  he  was  awarded  a  prize  medal. 

While  in  Paris  Allston's  remittances  failed,  and  he  had  his 
first  experience  in  pecuniary  embarrassment.  Vanderlyn  assured 
him  that  he  could  arrange  for  his  relief.  "  How  ?  "  asked  All- 
ston. "  I  can  swear  to  your  financial  soundness,"  was  the  reply. 
Vanderlyn  went  to  his  tailor  and  stated  the  case  so  effectively 
that  the  tailor  told  Allston  to  draw  on  him  for  whatever  he 
needed.  He  drew  for  a  thousand  francs,  and  shortly  after  re- 
funded the  money,  and  further,  to  discharge  the  obligation, 
ordered  two  suits  of  clothes. 


58 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


In  character  and  methods  of  art  it  would  be  difficult  to  find 
two  men  more  dissimilar  than  Yanderlyn  and  Allston.  Yander- 
lyn,  with  many  fine  traits  and  eminent  ability  as  an  artist, 
grasped  only  the  external  and  obvious.  Facts  ;  truth,  however 
barren  or  angular,  was  the  prime  object  of  attainment  with  him. 
Imagination  was  bridled  and  curbed  by  a  stern  regard  for  the 
obviously  true.  He  might  conceive  and  plan,  but  he  would  paint 
only  that  which  he  could  see  with  his  physical  eye.  Even  the 
ruins  of  Carthage  must  be  constructed  from  the  remains  of 
Greek  temples,  and  in  miniature  proportions  placed  in  his 
studio  before  he  would  attempt  to  paint  his  great  picture.  He 
lived  in  the  outer,  and  had  but  little  communion  with  the  purely 
ideal.  His  intellectual  powers,  though  large  and  vigorous,  sel- 
dom waited  upon  his  emotions.  With  Allston,  emotion  aroused 
and  fired  imagination,  and  intellect,  though  ever  present  in  large 
measure,  was  tempered  and  mingled  with  the  emotional.  The 
one  was  altogether  practical,  matter  of  fact ;  the  other  dreamy, 
thoughtful,  eccentric,  and  full  of  the  adventuring  spirit  of  genius. 

Allston  travelled  to  Italy  through  Switzerland,  drinking  in, 
with  ever-increasing  delight,  the  beauties  of  the  scenery  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Swiss  lakes  and  in  the  Alps.  Few  of  the  letters 
written  at  this  time  have  been  preserved,  but  from  one  of  these 
we  quote : 

"  The  impressions  left  by  the  sublime  scenery  of  Switzerland 
are  still  fresh  to  this  day.  A  new  world  has  been  opened  to  me, 
nor  have  I  met  with  anything  like  it  since.  The  scenery  of  the 
Apennines  is  quite  of  a  different  character.  By  the  by,  I  was 
particularly  struck  in  this  journey  with  the  truth  of  Turner's 
Swiss  scenes — the  poetic  truth,  which  none  before  or  since  have 
given,  with  the  exception  of  my  friend  Brockhedon's  magnificent 
work  on  the  passes  of  the  Alps.  I  passed  a  night  and  saw  the 
sun  rise  on  the  Lake  Maggiore.  Such  a  sunrise!  The  giant 
Alps  seemed  literally  to  rise  from  their  purple  beds,  and  put- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


59 


ting  on  their  crowns  of  gold  to  send  up  a  hallelujah  almost 
audible." 

In  Italy  Allston  stopped  first  in  Sienna,  to  acquaint  himself 
with  the  language  before  going  to  Eome.  He  visited  Venice, 
and  spent  a  year  studying  and  painting  in  the  galleries  of  Flor- 
ence ;  he  went  to  Rome  in  March,  1805,  and  there  became  im- 
bued with  the  spirit  of  the  old  masters.  Michael  Angelo's  forms 
and  Titian's  color  found  a  response  in  his  own  ideals  of  majesty, 
harmony,  and  beauty.  But  they  found  in  him  an  individuality 
that,  while  it  could  be  strengthened  and  impressed,  could  not  be 
obliterated  or  overwhelmed.  He  painted  himself,  inspired  by 
the  Italian  masters,  and  the  result  was  a  new  manifestation.  He 
studied  with  all  the  powers  of  his  mind,  intent  upon  understand- 
ing the  methods  of  his  great  prototypes  in  art,  and  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  he  exhibited  more  of  the  spirit  of  the  best  old 
masters  than  has  been  shown  by  any  student  of  modern  times. 
He  studied  pictorial  anatomy  diligently,  modelled  in  clay,  and 
never  ceased  his  practice  in  drawing. 

He  thus  expresses  his  reverence  for  the  old  masters : 
"It  is  needless  to  say  how  I  was  affected  by  Raffaele,  the 
greatest  master  of  the  affections  in  our  art.  In  beauty  he  has 
often  been  surpassed,  but  in  grace — the  native  grace  of  character 
— in  the  expression  of  intellect,  and,  above  all,  sanctity,  he  has 
no  equal.  "What  particularly  struck  me  in  his  works,  was  the 
genuine  life  (if  I  may  so  call  it)  that  seemed,  without  impairing 
the  distinctive  character,  to  pervade  them  all ;  for  even  his  hum- 
blest figures  have  a  something,  either  in  look,  air,  or  gesture,  akin 
to  the  venustas  of  his  own  nature,  as  if,  like  living  beings  under 
the  influence  of  a  master  spirit,  they  had  partaken,  in  spite  of 
themselves,  a  portion  of  the  charm  which  swayed  them.  This 
power  of  infusing  one's  own  life,  as  it  were,  into  that  which  is 
feigned,  appears  to  me  the  sole  prerogative  of  genius.  In  a  work 
of  art,  this  is  what  a  man  may  well  call  his  own,  for  it  cannot  be 


60 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


borrowed  or  imitated.  Of  Michael  Angelo,  I  do  not  know  how  to 
speak  in  adequate  terms  of  reverence.  With  all  his  faults  (but  who 
is  without  them)  even  Raffaele  bows  before  him.  As  I  stood  be- 
neath his  colossal  prophets  and  sybils,  still  more  colossal  in  spirit, 
I  felt  as  if  in  the  presence  of  messengers  from  the  other  world, 
with  the  destiny  of  man  in  their  breath,  in  repose  even  terrible. 
I  cannot  agree  with  Sir  Joshua  that  '  The  Vision  of  Ezekiel,'  of 
Raffaele,  or  '  The  Moses,'  of  Parmegiano,  have  anything  in  com- 
mon with  Michael  Angelo.  Their  admiration  of  Michael  Angelo 
may  have  elevated  their  forms  into  a  more  dignified  and  ma- 
jestic race,  but  still  left  them  men,  whose  feet  had  never 
trod  other  than  this  earth.  The  supernatural  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  both.  But  no  one  could  mistake  the  prophets  of 
Michael  Angelo  for  inhabitants  of  our  world  ;  yet  they  are  true 
to  the  imagination,  as  the  beings  about  us  are  to  the  senses. 
I  am  not  undervaluing  these  great  artists  when  I  deny  them 
a  kindred  genius  with  Michael  Angelo;  they  had  both  genius 
of  their  own,  and  high  qualities  which  nature  had  denied  the 
other." 

Toward  the  end  of  the  year  Allston  was  joined  by  Yanderlyn, 
and  they  were  the  only  American  students  in  Rome.  Of  his 
fellow-students  and  comrades,  and  of  distinguished  foreigners 
resident  in  Rome  at  that  time,  Sweetser,  in  his  "  "Washington 
Allston,"  says :  "  Yanderlyn  has  told  us  how  he  and  Allston, 
Turner,  and  Fenimore  Cooper,  frequented  the  famous  Caffe 
Greco,  the  resort  of  the  northern  barbarians  in  Rome  for  so  many 
decades.  There,  too,  were  to  be  seen  Thorwaldsen  and  Cor- 
nelius, Anderson  and  Louis  of  Bavaria,  Flaxman  and  Gibson, 
Shelley,  Keats,  and  Byron.  Thorwaldsen  could  hardly  have  been 
a  student  with  Allston,  as  some  assert,  for  he  had  been  in  Rome 
eight  years  when  the  latter  arrived,  and  had  already  won  rich 
pecuniary  rewards  and  the  praise  of  Canova.  Nevertheless 
he  was  a  friend  of  the  American  artist,  and  often  in  after-years 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


61 


pointed  to  him  as  a  proof  that  the  loftiest  abilities  were  indigen- 
ous to  the  Western  world. 

"  Another  group  of  eminent  persons  then  living  in  Borne, 
and  accessible  to  the  young  Carolinian,  was  gathered  around 
William  von  Humboldt,  the  Prussian  ambassador,  and  Alexan- 
der von  Humboldt,  who  had  just  returned  from  his  travels 
among  the  South  American  Andes.  The  Danish  envoy,  Baron 
von  Schubert,  and  the  Neapolitan  envoy,  Cardinal  Fesch,  were 
also  members  of  the  artistic  society  of  the  city.  Madame  de 
Stael  was  living  there  at  the  same  time,  also  A.  W.  von  Schlegel 
and  Sismondi.  During  this  period  the  city  was  continually 
menaced  by  the  armies  of  Napoleon,  which  had  occupied  several 
of  the  papal  provinces." 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  Washington  Irving,  and  Washing- 
ton Allston,  met  the  first  time  in  Eome  in  1805,  and  soon  be- 
came intimate.  They  were  young  men  diverse  in  temperament, 
in  character,  and  in  pursuits  ;  having  little  observable  similarity, 
save  in  the  healthful  vigor  of  early  manhood,  yet  attracted  to 
each  other  by  a  moral  magnetism,  such  as  binds  together  kindred 
souls  despite  the  varying  circumstances  and  influences  of  life. 
Different,  yet  inseparable,  these  young  men  traversed  the  streets 
of  the  "  Eternal  City."  Could  their  conversations,  as  from  day 
to  day  they  wandered  in  and  about  Koine,  be  recalled  and  written, 
we  should  unquestionably  have  a  record  of  great  interest,  rich  in 
poetry,  in  philosophy,  and  historic  truth. 

Doubtless  much  of  the  subject-matter  of  those  conversations 
in  and  about  Eome  would,  through  Coleridge,  have  found  its 
way  to  the  public,  but  for  an  unfortunate  incident  in  connection 
with  his  return  to  England,  in  the  summer  of  1806.  He  had  in- 
tended to  go  by  way  of  Switzerland  and  Germany,  but  being 
somewhat  apprehensive  of  danger  on  account  of  the  movements 
of  the  French  troops,  took  the  precaution  to  ask  the  advice  of 
Ambassador  von  Humboldt;  he  advised  Coleridge  to  avoid 


62 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


Bonaparte,  who  was  meditating  the  seizure  of  his  person,  and 
had  already  sent  to  Rome  an  order  for  his  arrest,  which  was  with- 
held from  execution  by  the  connivance  of  the  good  old  Pope, 
Pius  VII.,  who  sent  him  a  passport,  and  counselled  his  imme- 
diate flight  by  way  of  Leghorn.  Accordingly  he  hastened  to 
that  port,  where  he  found  an  American  vessel  ready  to  sail  for 
England,  and  embarked.  On  the  voyage  they  were  chased  by  a 
French  sail ;  the  captain,  becoming  alarmed,  commanded  Cole- 
ridge to  throw  his  papers,  including  his  notes  on  Rome,  over- 
board. 

As  Traill,  in  his  "Life  of  Coleridge,"  informs  us,  "The 
animosity  of  the  First  Consul  was  directed  against  Coleridge 
in  consequence  of  the  statement  of  Mr.  Fox  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  that  the  rupture  of  the  peace  at  Amiens  had  been 
brought  about  by  certain  articles  in  the  Morning  Post  These 
articles  were  written  by  Coleridge,  and,  as  his  biographer  re- 
marks, in  answer  to  a  certain  writer  in  Blackivood,  "There 
is  certainly  no  reason  to  believe  that  a  tyrant,  whose  animosity 
against  literary  or  quasi-literary  assailants  ranged  from  Madame 
de  Stael  down  to  the  bookseller  Palm,  would  have  regarded  a 
man  of  Coleridge's  reputation  as  beneath  the  swoop  of  his  ven- 
geance." 

It  cannot  be  doubted  by  those  who  know  Coleridge's  high 
appreciation  of  Allston,  that  in  those  manuscripts,  lost  through 
the  fright  of  the  captain,  there  were  many  allusions  to  the  seven 
months  of  daily  intercourse  with  a  spirit  so  in  accord  with  his 
own  in  its  culture,  and  in  poetic  and  philosophic  thought ;  we  can- 
not but  think  that  in  his  impressions  of  Rome,  Coleridge  would 
have  risen  to  the  height  of  his  finest  efforts.  He  was  at  his  best ; 
he  had  reached  the  maturity  of  his  intellectual  power ;  although 
he  had  commenced  the  fatal  habit  which  a  few  years  later  was 
so  painfully  evident,  it  had  not  yet  become  apparent  even  to  his 
companions.    It  had  made  no  visible  inroads  upon  his  body  or 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


63 


mind.  Believed  as  he  was  of  financial  embarrassment  by  a 
certain  though  small  annuity,  with  the  invigorating  influence  of 
change  of  scene,  change  of  air,  and  inspiring  companionship,  we 
are  justified  in  believing  that  the  lost  notes  would  have  added 
an  important  contribution  to  the  scanty  exhibitions  of  his  best. 
One  whose  work  was  so  often  fragmentary  and  incomplete,  one 
so  irresolute  and  inconstant,  in  a  career  so  brief  could  ill  afford 
to  lose  any  work  performed  under  stimulation  so  auspicious,  in 
the  zenith  of  his  powers. 

No  inconsiderable  influence  must  have  been  exerted  by  Cole- 
ridge, Irving,  and  Allston  upon  each  other  during  their  intimacy 
in  Rome.  The  character  of  each  must  have  been  to  some  extent 
moulded  by  the  others.  Doubtless  they  were  beneficiaries  all ; 
fine  natures,  cultivated  as  they  were,  have  much  to  give  and  are 
always  ready  to  receive.  Perhaps  none  received  more  than  he 
gave,  so  balanced  were  they  in  natural  gifts  and  qualities.  Of 
Coleridge,  however,  it  may  be  said  that  his  nature  had  in  it  more 
of  the  aggressive  than  belonged  either  to  Allston  or  Irving.  He 
was  the  senior  and,  in  a  sense,  the  primate ;  the  leader  and  chief 
speaker  of  the  trio.  It  may  indeed  be  questioned  whether  there 
has  ever  lived  his  superior  in  the  oral  use  of  language — in  capti- 
vating fluency  and  brilliancy  of  speech. 

In  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Albert  Mathews,  of  New  York,  S. 
F.  B.  Morse,  referring  to  the  fluency  for  which  Coleridge  was  so 
celebrated,  said  :  "  When  Leslie  and  I  were  studying  under  All- 
ston, Coleridge  was  a  frequent,  almost  daily,  visitor  to  our  studio. 
For  our  entertainment  while  painting,  we  used  to  arrange  in 
advance  some  question  in  which  we  were  interested,  and  pro- 
pound it  to  Coleridge  upon  his  coming  in.  This  was  quite  suf- 
ficient, and  never  failed  to  start  him  off  on  a  monologue  to  which 
we  could  listen  with  pleasure  and  profit  throughout  the  entire 
sitting."  His  mind  was  exhaustless,  and  his  power  to  interest 
was  always  at  command. 


64 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Allston  said  :  "  To  no  other  man  do  I  owe  so  much  intellect- 
ually as  to  Mr.  Coleridge,  with  whom  I  became  acquainted  in 
Rome,  and  who  has  honored  me  with  his  friendship  for  more 
than  five  and  twenty  years.  He  used  to  call  Rome  '  the  silent 
city,'  but  I  could  never  think  of  it  as  such  while  with  him, 
for  meet  him  when  and  where  I  would,  the  fountain  of  his 
mind  was  never  dry,  but,  like  the  far-reaching  aqueducts  that 
once  supplied  this  mistress  of  the  world,  its  living  stream 
seemed  specially  to  flow  for  every  classic  ruin  over  which  we 
wandered;  and  when  I  recall  some  of  our  walks  under  the 
pines  of  the  Villa  Borghese,  I  am  almost  tempted  to  dream 
that  I  have  once  listened  to  Plato  in  the  groves  of  the  Acad- 
emy." 

Allston  loved  the  classic  beauty  of  Greece  in  her  sculptured 
forms.  He  partook  of  the  spirit  of  the  men  who  reared  her  tem- 
ples, and  chiselled  her  immortal  statues.  The  chaste  dignity, 
the  purity,  and  elegance  of  the  Doric ;  the  ornate  simplicity  of 
the  Corinthian  and  Ionic,  appealed  to  him  as  to  one  educated 
in  the  schools  of  Phidias,  Myron,  and  Polycletus,  in  the  splendid 
era  of  Pericles.  No  child  of  Attica  was  ever  more  sensitively 
alive  to  the  pure,  refining,  and  inspiring  influences  of  her  marble 
forms.  The  tendency  of  his  mind  was  toward  the  statuesque, 
simple,  majestic,  beautiful,  ornate  without  filigree,  rich  without 
an  intimation  of  the  sensuous  or  voluptuous.  To  the  ordinary 
observer,  the  Farnese  Hercules  is  a  grand  statue  of  the  demi- 
god of  Greece,  exceedingly  impressive  in  its  semblance  of 
majesty  and  power.  To  him  it  was  the  immortal  offspring  of 
its  author.  It  had  survived  the  rise  and  fall  of  nations.  It 
was  immortal,  he  said,  because  of  its  integrity  to  the  highest 
principles  of  art,  which  made  it  the  embodiment  and  visible 
image  of  truth.  It  was  something  more  than  an  exaggeration 
of  the  human  form.  Though  of  mortal  mould,  it  possessed 
more  than  mortal  powers,  and  he  tells  us  that  while  stand- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


65 


ing  before  it  lie  felt  its  essential  life,  as  if  he  were  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  superior  being.1 

The  Apollo  Belvedere,  to  many  who  view  it,  is  an  extremely 
graceful  figure,  with  faultless  proportions,  of  a  young  man  with 
his  left  hand  extended,  holding  a  bow,  while  his  right  hand, 
which  has  apparently  just  left  the  string,  is  near  his  hip — noth- 
ing more.  To  him  it  was  immeasurably  more — more,  we  might 
almost  say,  than  its  author  intended.  In  speaking  of  this  statue, 
Allston  says :  "In  this  supernal  being  the  human  form  seems 
to  have  been  assumed  as  if  to  make  visible  the  harmonious  con- 
fluence of  the  pure  ideas  of  grace,  fleetness,  and  majesty ;  nor 
do  we  think  it  too  fanciful  to  add,  celestial  splendor,  for  such  in 
effect  are  the  thoughts  which  crowd,  or  rather  rush,  into  the 
mind  on  first  beholding  it.  Who  that  saw  it  in  what  may  be 
called  the  place  of  its  glory,  the  Gallery  of  Napoleon,  ever 
thought  of  it  as  a  man,  much  less  as  a  statue  ?  But  did  not  feel, 
rather,  as  if  the  vision  before  him  was  one  of  another  world — 
of  one  who  had  just  lighted  on  the  earth,  and  with  a  step  so 
ethereal  that  the  nex"t  instant  he  would  vault  into  the  air.  If,"  he 
continues,  "I  may  be  permitted  to  recall  the  impression  which 
it  made  on  myself,  I  know  not  how  I  could  better  describe 
it  than  as  a  sudden  intellectual  flash  filling  the  whole  mind  with 
light  and  light  in  motion.  It  seemed  to  the  mind  what  the  first 
sight  of  the  sun  is  to  the  senses,  as  it  emerges  from  the  ocean; 
when  from  a  point  of  light  the  whole  orb  at  once  appears  to 
bound  from  the  waters  and  to  dart  its  rays,  as  by  a  visible  ex- 
plosion, through  the  profound  of  space." 

The  charge  that  Coleridge  endeavored  to  draw  Allston  from 
his  love  of  Greek  art  has,  we  think,  no  sufficient  foundation, 
though  in  conversation  upon  the  comparative  beauties  of  Greek 
and  Gothic  styles,  he  once  said  to  Allston  :  "  Grecian  archi- 


5 


1  Lectures  on  Art,  p.  99. 


66 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


tecture  is  a  thing,  but  the  Gothic  is  an  idea."  And  then  ad- 
ded :  "I  can  make  a  Grecian  temple  of  two  brick-bats  and  a 
cocked  hat."  Unquestionably  he  preferred  the  Gothic,  for  obvi- 
ous and  sufficient  reasons. 

The  Gothic  in  its  richest  development  was  the  outcome  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  Its  composite  beauty  grew  and  expanded  under 
the  encouragement  and  patronage  of  the  Church ;  it  was  the  out- 
growth of  that  ecclesiasticism  which  appealed  to  the  religious 
sentiment  through  visible  forms.  As  thus,  a  part  of  the  Church, 
Coleridge  loved  and  revered  it.  To  him  the  Gothic  was  Chris- 
tian ;  the  Greek,  Pagan.  In  commending  the  Gothic,  he  seemed 
to  feel  the  enthusiasm  of  one  who  was  contending  for  the  su- 
premacy of  the  Christian  faith. 

It  were  unjust  to  suppose  that  Coleridge  was  insensible  to 
Grecian  beauty ;  Plato  and  Socrates  could  charm  his  intellect, 
but  Christ  and  the  Church  captivated  his  heart  and  soul.  Mon- 
uments of  Greek  art  appealed  to  his  sense  of  beauty  and  gave 
him  pleasure,  but  the  Gothic  touched  his  sense  of  worship,  and 
revealed  to  his  chastened  imagination  a  higher  beauty ;  to  him 
the  one  was  earthly,  the  other  heavenly. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


IRVING  IN  ALLSTON'S  STUDIO. — HIS  DESIRE  TO  BECOME  A  PAINTER. 
— HIS  SKETCH  OF  ALLSTON. — PARTICULARS  OF  THED3  INTI- 
MACY.— "  BELSHAZZAR'S  FEAST." — ALLSTON'S  OWN  DESCRIPTION 
OF  HIS  DESIGN. — "  JACOB'S  DREAM." — SUCCESS  IN  ENGLAND. 

Irving's  influence  was  genial  and  beneficent  in  all  directions. 
His  admiration  for  the  young  artist  was  true  and  profound. 
Allston's  studio  was  to  him  a  temple  wherein  was  enshrined  the 
purest  spirit  of  art,  and  to  it  his  emotional  nature  paid  daily 
homage.  So  engrossed  was  he  in  this  worship,  that  at  one  time, 
as  he  tells  us,  he  seriously  contemplated  devoting  himself  to  art 
as  his  pursuit  in  life ;  but  encouragement  in  the  direction  of  a 
literary  career  finally  prevailed.  Whether  the  world  has  lost  by 
his  decision,  who  can  say  ?  Allston  was  his  ideal  of  a  true  artist 
in  character  and  attainment,  and  it  is  not  strange  that  Irving's 
imaginative  and  fervid  nature  should  have  inclined  him  to  en- 
ter the  path  to  fame  in  which  his  friend  was  making  so  great 
progress. 

Speaking  of  Allston,  he  said:  "The  pleasure  he  derives 
from  his  own  thoughts  is  so  great  that  he  seems  to  forget  that 
there  is  anything  to  do  but  to  think."  In  this  brief  sentence  we 
have  the  key  to  Allston's  inner  life  and  character.  His  mind, 
filled  with  images  of  beauty  and  constructive  plans,  did,  as  it 
were,  feed  upon  itself,  apparently  well  satisfied  in  reverie  to 
while  away  the  hours  that  might  have  been  devoted  to  more 
tangible  work.  When  the  creative  power  of  imagination  is  so 
great  as  to  construct  a  world  for  itself  from  which  all  that  is  of- 


68 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


fensive  is  excluded,  and  where  only  forms  of  beauty  enter,  it  is 
but  natural  to  forget  and  neglect  the  outer  and  material,  the  pres- 
ent, tangible,  and  hard  world  in  which  we  struggle  for  existence. 
We  can  hardly  blame  him  for  preferring  to  dream  his  time  away 
in  that  which  was  to  him  a  real  Elysium,  rather  than  cope  with 
adversity  in  the  business  and  turmoil  of  ordinary  daily  life. 
We  should  not  conclude  from  this,  however,  that  Allston  was  an 
idler ;  nothing  could  be  further  from  the  truth.  The  charge  of 
idleness  has  been  made  as  accounting  for  the  comparatively 
small  number  of  pictures  left  by  him.  We  shall  consider  this 
charge  further  on. 

The  following  sketch  by  Irving,  published  with  his  "  Miscel- 
lanies," is  a  tribute  so  beautiful  and  comprehensive,  that  were 
nothing  further  written  of  Allston,  this  alone  would  embalm  his 
memory  in  the  best  literature  of  the  day.  It  is  so  admirable  and 
interesting  a  vindication  of  our  purpose  in  this  biography,  that 
we  give  it  in  full : 

"  I  first  became  acquainted  with  Washington  Allston  early  in 
the  spring  of  1805.  He  had  just  arrived  from  France,  I  from 
Sicily  and  Naples.  I  was  then  not  quite  twenty-two  years  of 
age,  he  a  little  older.  There  was  something,  to  me,  inexpres- 
sibly engaging  in  the  appearance  and  manners  of  Allston.  I  do 
not  think  I  have  ever  been  more  completely  captivated  on  a  first 
acquaintance.  He  was  of  a  light  and  graceful  form,  with  large 
blue  eyes,  and  black,  silken  hair  waving  and  curling  round  a 
pale,  expressive  countenance.  Everything  about  him  bespoke 
the  man  of  intellect  and  refinement.  His  conversation  was  copi- 
ous, animated,  and  highly  graphic  ;  warmed  by  a  genial  sensibil- 
ity and  benevolence,  and  enlivened  at  times  by  a  chaste  and  gentle 
humor.  A  young  man's  intimacy  took  place  immediately  between 
us,  and  we  were  much  together  during  my  brief  sojourn  at  Eome. 
He  was  taking  a  general  view  of  the  place  before  settling  himself 
down  to  his  professional  studies.    We  visited  together  some  of 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


CO 


the  finest  collections  of  paintings,  and  he  taught  me  how  to  visit 
them  to  the  most  advantage,  guiding  me  always  to  the  master- 
pieces, and  passing  by  the  others  without  notice.  •  Never  attempt 
to  enjoy  every  picture  in  a  great  collection,'  he  would  say,  1  unless 
you  have  a  year  to  bestow  upon  it.  You  may  as  well  attempt  to 
enjoy  every  dish  in  a  Lord  Mayor's  feast.  Both  mind  and  palate 
get  confounded  by  a  great  variety  and  rapid  succession,  even  of 
delicacies.  The  mind  can  only  take  in  a  certain  number  of 
images  and  impressions  distinctly ;  by  multiplying  the  number 
you  weaken  each  and  render  the  whole  confused  and  vague. 
Study  the  choice  piece  in  each  collection ;  look  upon  none  else, 
and  you  will  afterward  find  them  hanging  up  in  your  memory. 

"  He  was  exquisitely  sensible  to  the  graceful  and  the  beauti- 
ful, and  took  great  delight  in  paintings  which  excelled  in  color ; 
yet  he  was  strongly  moved  and  roused  by  objects  of  grandeur.  I 
well  recollect  the  admiration  with  which  he  contemplated  the 
statue  of  1  Moses/  by  Michael  Angelo,  and  his  mute  awe  and 
reverence  on  entering  the  stupendous  pile  of  St.  Peter's.  Indeed, 
the  sentiment  of  veneration  so  characteristic  of  the  elevated  and 
poetic  mind  was  continually  manifested  by  him.  His  eyes  would 
dilate ;  his  pale  countenance  would  flush ;  he  would  breathe 
quick,  and  almost  gasp  in  expressing  his  feelings  when  excited 
by  any  object  of  grandeur  and  sublimity. 

"  We  had  delightful  rambles  together  about  Rome  and  its 
environs,  one  of  which  came  near  changing  my  whole  course  of 
life.  We  had  been  visiting  a  stately  villa,  with  its  gallery  of 
paintings,  its  marble  halls,  its  terraced  gardens  set  out  with 
statues  and  fountains,  and  were  returning  to  Rome  about  sunset. 
The  blandness  of  the  air,  the  serenity  of  the  sky,  the  transparent 
purity  of  the  atmosphere,  and  that  nameless  charm  which  hangs 
about  an  Italian  landscape,  had  derived  additional  effect  from 
being  enjoyed  in  company  with  Allston,  and  pointed  out  by  him 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  artist.  As  I  listened  to  him  and  gazed 


70 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


upon  the  landscape,  I  drew  in  my  mind  a  contrast  between  our 
different  pursuits  and  prospects.  He  was  to  reside  among  these 
delightful  scenes,  surrounded  by  masterpieces  of  art,  by  classic 
and  historic  monuments,  by  men  of  congenial  minds  and  tastes, 
engaged  like  him  in  the  constant  study  of  the  sublime  and  beau- 
tiful. I  was  to  return  home  to  the  dry  study  of  the  law,  for 
which  I  had  no  relish,  and  as  I  feared,  but  little  talent. 

"  Suddenly  the  thought  presented  itself :  '  Why  might  I  not 
remain  here  and  turn  painter  ?  '  I  had  taken  lessons  in  drawing 
before  leaving  America,  and  had  been  thought  to  have  had  some 
aptness,  as  I  certainly  had  a  strong  inclination,  for  it.  I  men- 
tioned the  idea  to  Allston,  and  he  caught  at  it  with  eagerness. 
Nothing  could  be  more  feasible.  We  would  take  an  apartment 
together.  He  would  give  me  all  the  instruction  and  assistance 
in  his  power,  and  was  sure  I  would  succeed.  For  two  or  three 
days  the  idea  took  full  possession  of  my  mind  ;  but  I  believed  it 
owed  its  main  force  to  the  lovely  evening  ramble  in  which  I  first 
conceived  it,  and  to  the  romantic  friendship  I  had  formed  with 
Allston.  Whenever  it  recurred  to  mind  it  was  always  connected 
•with  beautiful  Italian  scenery,  palaces,  and  statues,  and  fountains, 
and  terraced  gardens,  and  Allston  as  the  companion  of  my 
studio.  I  promised  myself  a  world  of  enjoyment  in  his  society, 
and  in  the  society  of  several  artists  with  whom  he  had  made  me 
acquainted,  and  pictured  forth  a  scheme  of  life,  all  tinted  with 
the  rainbow  hues  of  youthful  promise. 

"  My  lot  in  life,  however,  was  differently  cast.  Doubts  and 
fears  gradually  clouded  over  my  prospects ;  the  rainbow  tints 
faded  away  ;  I  began  to  apprehend  a  sterile  reality  ;  so  I  gave  up 
the  transient  but  delightful  prospect  of  remaining  in  Eome  with 
Allston  and  turning  painter. 

"  My  next  meeting  with  Allston  was  in  America,  after  he  had 
finished  his  studies  in  Italy,  but  as  we  resided  in  different  cities, 
we  saw  each  other  only  occasionally.    Our  intimacy  was  closer 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


71 


some  years  afterward,  when  we  were  both  in  England.  I  then 
saw  a  great  deal  of  him  during  my  visits  to  London,  where  he 
and  Leslie  resided  together.  Allston  was  dejected  in  spirits 
from  the  loss  of  his  wife,  but  I  thought  a  dash  of  melancholy  had 
increased  the  amiable  and  winning  graces  of  his  character.  I  used 
to  pass  long  evenings  with  him  and  Leslie ;  indeed  Allston,  if 
anyone  would  keep  him  company,  would  sit  up  until  cock  crow- 
ing, and  it  was  hard  to  break  away  from  the  charms  of  his  con- 
versation. He  was  an  admirable  story-teller ;  for  a  ghost  story 
none  could  surpass  him.    He  acted  the  story  as  well  as  told  it. 

"  I  have  seen  some  anecdotes  of  him  in  the  public  papers, 
which  represent  him  in  a  state  of  indigence  and  almost  despair, 
until  rescued  by  the  sale  of  one  of  his  paintings.  This  is  an  ex- 
aggeration. I  subjoin  an  extract  or  two  from  his  letters  to  me, 
relating  to  his  most  important  pictures.  The  first,  dated  May 
9,  1817,  was  addressed  to  me  at  Liverpool,  where  he  supposed  I 
was  about  to  embark  for  the  United  States. 

"'Your  sudden  resolution  of  embarking  for  America  lias 
quite  thrown  me,  to  use  a  sea  phrase,  all  aback.  I  have  so  many 
things  to  tell  you  of,  to  consult  you  about,  etc.,  and  am  such  a 
sad  correspondent,  that  before  I  can  bring  my  pen  to  do  its  office, 
'tis  a  hundred  to  one  that  the  vexations  for  which  your  advice 
would  be  wished  will  have  passed  and  gone.  One  of  these  sub- 
jects (and  the  most  important)  is  the  large  picture  I  talked  of 
soon  beginning ;  the  Prophet  Daniel  interpreting  the  handwrit- 
ing on  the  wall  before  Belshazzar.  I  have  made  a  highly  finished 
sketch  of  it,  and  wished  much  to  have  your  remarks  on  it.  But 
as  your  sudden  departure  will  deprive  me  of  this  advantage,  I 
must  beg,  should  any  hints  on  the  subject  occur  to  you  during 
your  voyage,  that  you  will  favor  me  with  them,  at  the  same  time 
you  let  me  know  that  you  are  again  safe  in  our  good  country.  I 
think  the  composition  the  best  I  ever  made.  It  contains  a  mul- 
titude of  figures,  and  (if  I  may  be  allowed  to  say  it)  they  are 


72 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


without  confusion.  Don't  you  think  it  a  fine  subject?  I  know 
not  any  that  so  happily  unites  the  magnificent  and  the  awful.  A 
mighty  sovereign  surrounded  by  his  whole  court,  intoxicated  with 
his  own  state,  in  the  midst  of  his  revellings,  palsied  in  a  moment 
under  the  spell  of  a  preternatural  hand  suddenly  tracing  his 
doom  on  the  wall  before  him ;  his  powerless  limbs  like  a 
wounded  spider's  shrunk  up  to  his  body,  while  his  heart,  com- 
pressed to  a  point,  is  only  kept  from  vanishing  by  the  terrified 
suspense  that  animates  it  during  the  interpretation  of  his  mys- 
terious sentence.  His  less  guilty,  but  scarcely  less  agitated, 
queen,  the  panic-struck  courtiers  and  concubines,  the  splendid 
and  deserted  banquet  -  table,  the  half  -  arrogant,  half  -  astounded 
magicians,  the  holy  vessels  of  the  temple  (shining,  as  it  were,  in 
triumph  through  the  gloom),  and  the  calm,  solemn  contrast  of  the 
prophet,  standing  like  an  animated  pillar  in  the  midst,  breathing 
forth  the  oracular  destruction  of  the  Empire  !  The  picture  will 
be  twelve  feet  high  by  seventeen  feet  long.  Should  I  succeed  in 
it  to  my  wishes,  I  know  not  what  may  be  its  fate ;  but  I  leave  the 
future  to  Providence.    Perhaps  I  may  send  it  to  America.' 

"  The  next  letter  from  Allston,  which  remains  in  my  posses- 
sion, is  dated  London,  March  13th,  1818.  In  the  interim  he 
had  visited  Paris  in  company  with  Leslie  and  Newton ;  the  fol- 
lowing extract  gives  the  result  of  the  excitement  caused  by  a 
study  of  the  masterpieces  of  the  Louvre. 

"  '  Since  my  return  from  Paris,  I  have  painted  two  pictures  in 
order  to  have  something  in  the  present  exhibition  at  the  British 
Gallery ;  the  subjects,  "The  Angel  Uriel  in  the  Sun,"  and  "Elijah 
in  the  "Wilderness."  "  Uriel  "  was  immediately  purchased  at  the 
price  I  asked,  one  hundred  and  fifty  guineas,  by  the  Marquis  of 
Stafford  ;  and  the  Directors  of  the  British  Institution,  moreover, 
presented  me  a  donation  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  as  a 
mark  of  their  approbation  of  the  talent  evinced,  etc.  The  man- 
ner in  which  this  was  done  was  highly  complimentary,  and  I  can 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


73 


only  say  it  was  fully  as  gratifying  as  it  was  unexpected.  As  both 
these  pictures  together  cost  me  but  ten  weeks,  I  do  not  regret 
having  deducted  that  time  from  the  "  Belshazzar,"  to  whom  I 
have  since  returned  with  redoubled  vigor.  I  am  sorry  I  did  not 
exhibit  "  Jacob's  Dream."  If  I  had  dreamed  of  this  success  I 
certainly  would  have  sent  it  there.' 

"  Leslie,  in  a  letter  to  me,  speaks  of  the  picture  of  '  Uriel 
Seated  in  the  Sun  : '  '  The  figure  is  colossal,  the  attitude  and  air 
very  noble,  and  the  form  heroic  without  being  overcharged.  In 
the  color  he  has  been  equally  successful,  and  with  a  very  rich 
and  glowing  tone,  he  has  avoided  positive  colors  which  would 
have  made  him  too  material.  There  is  neither  red,  blue,  nor 
yellow  in  the  picture,  and  yet  it  possesses  a  harmony  equal  to 
the  best  pictures  of  Paul  Veronese.' 

"  The  picture  made  what  is  called  a  '  decided  hit,'  and  pro- 
duced a  great  sensation,  being  pronounced  worthy  of  the  old 
masters.  Attention  was  immediately  called  to  the  artist.  The 
Earl  of  Egremont,  a  great  connoisseur  and  patron  of  the  arts, 
sought  him  in  his  studio,  eager  for  any  production  from  his  pen- 
cil. He  found  an  admirable  picture  there,  of  which  he  became 
the  glad  possessor.  The  following  extract  is  from  Allston's  let- 
ter to  me  on  the  subject : 

" '  Leslie  tells  me  he  has  informed  you  of  the  sale  of 
"Jacob's  Dream."  I  do  not  remember  if  you  have  seen  it.  The 
manner  in  which  Lord  Egremont  bought  it  was  particularly 
gratifying — to  say  nothing  of  the  price,  which  is  no  trifle  to  me 
at  present.  But  Leslie  having  told  you  all  about  it,  I  will  not 
repeat  it.  Indeed,  by  the  account  he  gives  me  of  his  letter  to  you, 
he  seems  to  have  puffed  me  off  in  grand  style.  Well,  you  know 
I  don't  bribe  him  to  do  it,  and  if  they  will  buckle  praise  upon 
my  back,  why,  I  can't  help  it !  Leslie  has  just  finished  a  very 
beautiful  little  picture  of  Anne  Page  inviting  Master  Slender  into 
the  house.    Anne  is  exquisite,  soft,  and  feminine,  yet  arch  and 


74 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


playful.  She  is  all  she  should  be.  Slender,  also,  is  very  happy ; 
he  is  a  good  parody  on  Milton's  "linked  sweetness  long  drawn 
out."  Falstaff  and  Shallow  are  seen  through  a  window  in  the 
background.  The  whole  scene  is  very  picturesque  and  beautifully 
painted.  'Tis  his  best  picture.  You  must  not  think  this  praise 
the  "  return  in  kind."  I  give  it  because  I  really  admire  the 
picture,  and  I  have  not  the  smallest  doubt  that  he  will  do  great 
things  when  he  is  once  freed  from  the  necessity  of  painting  por- 
traits.' 

"  Lord  Egremont  was  equally  well  pleased  with  the  artist  as 
with  his  works,  and  invited  him  to  his  noble  seat  at  Petworth, 
where  it  was  his  delight  to  dispense  his  hospitalities  to  men  of 
genius.  The  road  to  fame  and  fortune  was  now  open  to  Allston ; 
he  had  but  to  remain  in  England  and  follow  up  the  signal  im- 
pression he  had  made.  Unfortunately,  previous  to  this  recent 
success,  he  had  been  disheartened  by  domestic  affliction,  and  by 
the  uncertainty  of  his  pecuniary  prospects,  and  had  made  ar- 
rangements to  return  to  America.  I  arrived  in  London  a  few 
days  before  his  departure,  full  of  literary  schemes,  and  delighted 
with  the  idea  of  our  pursuing  our  several  arts  in  fellowship.  It 
was  a  sad  blow  to  me  to  have  this  day-dream  again  dispelled.  I 
urged  him  to  remain  and  complete  his  grand  painting  of  '  Bel- 
shazzar's  Feast,'  the  study  of  which  gave  promise  of  the  highest 
kind  of  excellence.  Some  of  the  best  patrons  of  the  art  were 
equally  urgent.  He  was  not  to  be  persuaded,  and  I  saw  him  de- 
part with  still  deeper  and  more  painful  regret  than  I  had  parted 
with  him  in  our  youthful  days  at  Kome.  I  think  our  separation 
was  a  loss  to  both  of  us — to  me  a  grievous  one.  The  companion- 
ship of  such  a  man  was  invaluable.  For  his  own  part,  had  he 
remained  in  England  a  few  years  longer,  surrounded  by  every- 
thing to  encourage  and  stimulate  him,  I  have  no  doubt  he  would 
have  been  at  the  head  of  his  art.  He  appeared  to  me  to  pos- 
sess more  than  any  contemporary  the  spirit  of  the  old  masters ; 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


75 


and  his  merits  were  becoming  widely  appreciated.  After  his  de- 
parture he  was  unanimously  elected  a  member  of  the  Eoyal 
Academy. 

"  The  next  time  I  saw  him  was  twelve  years  afterward,  on  my 
return  to  America,  when  I  visited  him  at  his  studio  at  Cam- 
bridge, in  Massachusetts,  and  found  him,  in  the  gray  evening  of 
life,  apparently  much  retired  from  the  world,  and  his  grand 
picture  of  '  Belshazzar's  Feast '  yet  unfinished.  To  the  last  he 
appeared  to  retain  all  those  elevated,  refined,  and  gentle  quali- 
ties which  first  endeared  him  to  me.  Such  are  a  few  particulars 
of  my  intimacy  with  Allston — a  man  whose  memory  I  hold  in 
reverence  and  affection  as  one  of  the  purest,  noblest,  and  most 
intellectual  beings  that  ever  honored  me  with  his  friendship." 


CHAPTEK  VII. 


LETTER  FROM  COLERIDGE. — LONDON  AGAIN. — RETURN  TO  BOSTON. — 
MARRIAGE. — RETURN  TO  EUROPE  WITH  MORSE. — MORSE'S  OPINION 
OF  ALLSTON. 

The  following  letter  was  written  to  Allston,  by  Coleridge,  on 
June  17,  1806,  while  he  was  en  route  for  Leghorn : 

"  My  Dear  Allston  :  No  want  of  affection  has  occasioned 
my  silence.  Day  after  day  I  expected  Mr.  Wallis.  Benvenuti 
received  me  with  almost  insulting  coldness,  not  even  asking  me 
to  sit  down,  neither  could  I,  by  any  inquiry,  find  that  he  ever  re- 
turned my  call ;  and  even  in  answer  to  a  very  polite  note  in- 
quiring for  letters,  sent  a  verbal  message  that  there  was  one,  and 
I  might  call  for  it.  However,  within  the  last  seven  or  eight 
days,  he  has  called  and  made  this  amende  honorable  ;  he  says  he 
forgot  the  name  of  my  inn,  and  called  at  two  or  three  in  vain. 
"Whoo !  I  did  not  tell  him  that  within  five  days  I  sent  him  a 
note  in  which  the  inn  was  mentioned,  and  that  he  sent  me  a 
message  in  consequence,  and  yet  never  called  for  ten  days  after- 
ward. However,  yester  evening  the  truth  came  out.  He  had 
been  bored  by  letters  of  recommendation,  and,  till  he  received  a 
letter  from  Mr.  M  ,  looked  upon  me  as  a  bore — which,  how- 
ever, he  might  and  ought  to  have  got  rid  of  in  a  more  gentle- 
manly manner.  Nothing  more  was  necessary  than  the  day 
after  my  arrival  to  have  sent  his  card  by  his  servant.  But  I 
forgive  him  from  my  heart.    It  should,  however,  be  a  lesson  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


77 


Mr.  Wallis,  to  whom,  and  for  whom,  he  gives  letters  of  [intro- 
duction] . 

"  I  have  been  dangerously  ill  for  the  last  fortnight,  and  un- 
well enough,  heaven  knows,  previously ;  about  ten  days  ago,  on 
rising  from  my  bed,  I  had  a  manifest  stroke  of  palsy  along  my 
right  side  and  right  arm  ;  my  head  felt  like  another  man's  head, 
so  dead  was  it,  that  I  seemed  to  know  it  only  by  my  left  hand 
and  a  strange  sense  of  numbness.  Violent  attempts  to  vomit, 
each  effort  accompanied  by  involuntary  and  terrific  screams. 
Enough  of  it,  continual  vexations  and  preyings  upon  the  spirit. 
I  gave  life  to  my  children,  and  they  have  repeatedly  given  it  to 
me,  for,  by  the  Maker  of  all  things,  but  for  them  I  would  try  my 
chance.  But  they  pluck  out  the  wing-feathers  from  the  mind.  I 
have  not  entirely  recovered  the  sense  of  my  side  or  hand,  but  have 
recovered  the  use.    I  am  harassed  by  local  and  partial  fevers. 

"  This  day,  at  noon,  we  sot  off  for  Leghorn ;  all  passage 
through  the  Italian  states  and  Germany  is  little  other  than  im- 
possible for  an  Englishman,  and  heaven  knows  whether  Leghorn 
may  not  be  blockaded.  However,  we  go  thither,  and  shall  go  to 
England  in  an  American  ship.    .    .  . 

"  My  dear  Allston,  somewhat  from  increasing  age,  but  more 
from  calamity  and  intense  [painful]  affections,  my  heart  is  not 
open  to  more  than  kind,  good  wishes  in  general.  To  you,  and 
you  alone,  since  I  have  left  England,  I  have  felt  more,  and  had 
I  not  known  the  Wordsworths,  should  have  esteemed  and  loved 
you  first  and  most ;  and  as  it  is,  next  to  them  I  love  and  honor 
you.  Heaven  knows,  a  part  of  such  a  wreck  as  my  head  and 
heart  is  scarcely  worth  your  acceptance. 

"S.  T.  Coleridge." 
The  foregoing  letter  is  interesting  as  indicating  the  great 
physical  suffering  endured  by  Coleridge.    He  seemed  peculiarly 
sensitive  to  pain,  both  bodily  and  mental,  and  one  can  hardly 
condemn  the  use  of  opiates  in  a  case  like  his.    Doubtless  he 


78 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


struggled  to  resist  the  control  of  the  narcotic  which  brought  im- 
munity so  desirable,  and  moral  delinquency  cannot  be  justly 
charged  to  any  habit  growing  out  of,  and  continually  induced  by, 
the  impulse  to  escape  pain.  With  Coleridge  this  impulse  was 
so  recurrent  that  the  drug  might  well  have  been  regarded  by 
him  as  necessary  medication.  It  is  unjust  to  accuse  such  a  man 
of  the  habitual  use  of  opium,  simply  from  a  love  of  its  pleasing, 
dreamy  influence. 

Two  years  after  Coleridge  was  in  Leghorn,  Allston  himself 
was  there.  He  was  now  twenty-eight  years  old.  His  studies 
and  travels  had  given  breadth  and  finish  to  the  abundant  gifts 
wherewith  nature  had  endowed  him.  Few,  if  any,  were  better 
qualified  to  teach  or  practise  art.  Writing  to  Yanderlyn,  from 
Leghorn,  he  concurs  with  him  about  a  certain  picture  then  on 
exhibition  in  Rome,  and  makes  very  clear  an  important  distinc- 
tion between  that  which  can  be  taught  and  that  which  cannot. 
He  virtually  insists  that  the  most  important  and  effective  part  of 
a  picture  is  that  which  nature  alone  teaches.  Much  may  be 
learned  of  man,  but  more  is  given  by  nature.  Teaching  is  but 
the  directing  of  faculties  already  possessed.  The  amount  of  the 
natural  gift  measures  and  foretells  the  degree  of  attainment  pos- 
sible to  the  pupil. 

He  says  :  "  Your  observations  on  the  famous  picture  which 
made  such  a  noise  at  Rome  are  exactly  such  as  I  expected  from 
you.  If  you  think  it  any  compliment,  I  give  them  my  approba- 
tion, which  I  conceive  may  be  readily  honored,  from  my  little 
knowledge  of  art  and  greater  knowledge  of  man — both  of  them 
convincing  me  of  the  impossibility  of  effecting  at  will  a  total 
change  of  style  no  less  than  of  manners.  Depend  upon  it,  no 
man  who  possesses  from  nature  a  true  feeling  for  color  could 
ever  have  prevailed  on  himself  to  live  to  the  age  of  forty  in  total 
neglect  of  it.  The  first  may  teach  a  man  to  draw  a  correct  out- 
line— I  mean  after  a  model ;  may  teach  him  to  put  figures  to- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


79 


getlier  so  they  may  appear  neither  awkward  nor  embarrassed ;  to 
dispose  of  light  and  shadow  so  as  to  correspond  with  common 
reason  ;  but  to  the  last  alone  is  reserved  the  province  of  feeling 
and  expressing  the  beauty  of  form,  of  painting  the  soul,  of  giv- 
ing life  and  motion  to  a  group,  and  expression  and  harmony  and 
magic  to  the  mystery  of  chiaro-oscuro." 

The  troublous  times  in  Europe,  the  disturbances  of  war, 
which  had  driven  Coleridge  from  Rome,  began  to  alarm  American 
citizens  abroad,  and  Allston  felt  that  he  must  return  to  America 
while  he  could  escape  possible  forced  detention.  His  heart 
influenced  him  strongly  to  the  determination  to  return,  but  lit- 
tle was  required  to  make  him  believe  in  accordance  with  his 
wishes,  for  apprehensions  enforced  by  the  affections  grow  rap- 
idly.   Toward  the  end  of  the  letter  quoted  above,  he  says  : 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  me  so  soon  on  my 
way  home.  The  truth  is,  the  situation  of  my  country,  as  it  now 
respects  Europe,  makes  me  apprehend  a  loss  of  our  neutrality. 
Perhaps  I  look  too  far  ;  but  a  man  who  is  expected  home  by  his 
bride  is  not  likely  to  risk  so  much  as  one  who  is  so  occupied  by 
the  whole  sex  together  as  to  think  of  no  one  in  particular.  I 
therefore  thought  it  prudent,  though  six  months  before  it  may 
be  necessary,  to  cross  the  Atlantic  while  I  was  permitted.  I 
hope  your  1  Marius  '  is  safe  arrived.  My  cases  are  all  here,  but 
they  will  not  accompany  me.  I  shall  take  only  '  Cupid  and 
Psyche '  and  the  little  '  Falstaff.'  What  queer  times  for  a 
painter !  " 

Coleridge  and  Irving  had  left  Allston  in  Rome,  and  earned 
his  praises  with  them  to  London.  At  a  dinner  party,  where 
Northcote  and  Lamb  were  present,  Coleridge  entertained  the 
party  by  a  very  interesting  account  of  the  young  American 
artist  whom  he  had  met  in  Rome.  Northcote,  who  did  not  en- 
joy listening  to  praises  bestowed  on  others,  interrupted  Cole- 
ridge, saying  :   "I  have  no  doubt  this  Mr.  Allston  is  a  very  great 


80 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


artist,  as  Mr.  Coleridge  sayes  he  is,  but  it  is  rayther  remarkable 
that  we  never  heerd  of  him  before."  Coleridge  related  this  table- 
talk  to  Allston  on  his  return  to  London,  much  to  his  amusement. 
Subsequently,  when  engaged  on  his  picture  of  "  The  Dead  Man 
Revived, "  which  was  already  highly  spoken  of  in  art  circles, 
Northcote  mentioned  the  picture  to  an  artist  friend,  and  asked 
him  if  it  was  really  as  fine  as  they  said  it  was.  The  artist  re- 
plied that  he  had  seen  it,  and  thought  it  well  deserved  all  that 
had  been  said  of  it.  Northcote  rejoined,  ""Well,  then,  you  think 
he  means  to  coot  me  out  ?  "  His  arrogant  and  selfish  nature 
could  not  brook  a  rival.  Upon  one  occasion,  when  Allston  him- 
self called  upon  Northcote,  in  the  course  of  conversation  he  re- 
marked that  he  had  heard  a  book  recently  published  by  him 
highly  spoken  of.  "  By  some  artist,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  North- 
cote, sneeringly.  "  No,"  replied  Allston  ;  "  by  a  literary  man." 
"  Ah,"  said  he,  in  a  jubilant  tone,  "  why,  you  delight  me." 

Speaking  of  George  the  Third,  and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  his 
old  master,  and  perhaps  the  only  living  artist  for  whom  he  had 
any  great  admiration,  he  said  that  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  very 
little  troubled  with  royal  patronage.  The  King,  he  said,  could 
not  afford  to  ignore  so  great  an  artist  as  Sir  Joshua,  and  accord- 
ingly sat  to  him  for  his  portrait,  but  that  once  was  sufficient  for 
the  King,  as  he  could  not  endure  the  presence  of  so  great  a  man. 
Subsequently  Northcote  himself  painted  a  portrait  of  the  King, 
and  on  hearing  it  complimented  said  he  was  glad  to  have  been 
successful,  for  he  considered  George  the  Third  one  of  the  best 
sovereigns  England  had  produced,  for  all  England  required  or 
needed  in  a  king  was  a  figure  to  put  robes  on.  Northcote  did 
not  relish  the  idea  of  Allston  dividing  the  palm  with  him  in 
England ;  he  considered  himself  as  outranking  all  artists  of  the 
kingdom,  excepting  only  his  great  teacher,  Sir  J oshua. 

In  1809  Allston  returned  from  Europe  to  Boston.  He  brought 
with  him  the  prestige  of  foreign  travel,  in  those  days  an  impor- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


81 


tant  factor  in  the  reputation  of  an  artist.  He  also  brought  with 
him  no  inconsiderable  distinction  achieved  by  his  work  in  Eng- 
land and  on  the  Continent.  The  great  praise  awarded  him  by 
Coleridge  and  Irving  had  found  its  way  across  the  ocean  and 
prepared  a  cordial  reception  for  him  in  Boston,  the  city  of  his 
adoption.  Boston  was  endeared  to  him  by  many  associations 
connected  with  his  college  life  in  Cambridge.  There  many  friend- 
ships had  taken  root,  and  he  was  held  by  unnumbered  pleasant 
memories  to  that  home  of  his  early  manhood  where  his  happiest 
years  were  spent.  The  rekindling  of  early  friendships  afforded 
him  the  keenest  pleasure.  The  old  road  from  Boston  to  Cam- 
bridge was  picturesque  with  recollections  of  the  past,  and  in  all 
directions  pleasant  greeting  welcomed  him,  attentions  were  lav- 
ishly bestowed,  men  of  fortune  and  of  letters  were  continually 
inviting  him  to  their  houses,  vying  with  each  other  in  civilities 
inspired  by  admiration  for  the  young  artist.  His  works  had 
already  given  him  such  notoriety  that  his  promise  of  fame  was 
beginning  to  be  regarded  by  Bostonians  as  the  property  of  his 
country,  a  kind  of  national  endowment  of  which  all  should  be 
proud. 

The  regard  in  which  Allston  was  held  for  his  ability  as  an 
artist  is  not  to  be  accounted  for  by  assuming  that  there  was  no 
one  in  America  to  compete  with  him.  There  were  strong  men  in 
art  here,  even  then ;  Stuart,  Vandcrlyn,  Jarvis,  and  Trumbull  are 
names  of  great  eminence.  They  were  then  at  the  height  of  their 
fame,  acknowledged  and  liberally  patronized.  It  was  in  the  re- 
flex of  Allston's  English  reputation,  and  in  his  pleasing  person- 
ality, that  we  find  the  secret  of  the  appreciation  in  which  he  was 
held  in  Boston  at  that  early  day. 

During  this  visit  he  was  married  to  Miss  Ann  Channing,  to 
whom  he  had  long  been  engaged.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Will- 
iam Channing,  a  lawyer  of  eminence  in  Newport,  and  grand- 
daughter of  William  Ellery,  one  of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration 
6 


82 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


of  Independence.  In  a  letter  to  his  grandfather,  her  brother,  the 
celebrated  William  Ellery  Channing,  thus  speaks  of  the  mar- 
riage : 

"  A  few  hours  ago  Washington  and  Ann,  after  their  long  and 
patient  courtship,  were  united  in  marriage.  Your  granddaughter 
has  found,  I  believe,  an  excellent  husband,  one  who  from  prin- 
ciple and  affection  will  make  her  happiness  his  constant  object. 
I  hope  that  she  will  settle  at  no  great  distance  from  us,  but  we 
have  not  yet  sufficient  taste  for  the  arts  to  give  Mr.  Allston  the 
encouragement  he  deserves." 

Miss  Channing  was  thirty-one  years  of  age  when  she  married. 
She  was  a  woman  of  pleasing  manners  and  personal  beauty. 
The  influence  of  her  life  upon  her  husband  was  beneficent  and 
wifely.  The  effect  of  her  early  death  was  disastrous  and  irrep- 
arable. But  we  must  not  anticipate  events  which  belong  to  a 
later  stage  of  our  work. 

During  his  brief  sojourn  in  America,  on  the  occasion  of  his 
marriage,  Allston  painted  some  of  his  finest  portraits,  among 
which  was  that  of  his  mother,  now  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Cor- 
nelius Yanderbilt,  whose  wife  is  Allston's  grand-niece ;  one  of 
his  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Channing,  and  also  his  beautiful  picture, 
"  The  Yalentine,"  painted  from  a  pencil  drawing  of  his  wife. 
Immediately  after  his  marriage  he  visited  his  mother,  who  was 
at  New  Haven  with  her  son,  his  half-brother,  Henry  C.  Flagg, 
then  a  student  at  Yale.  At  this  period  one  of  his  occupations, 
or,  we  might  say,  pleasures,  was  poetic  composition.  His  genius 
overflowed  in  verse.  The  poetic  spirit,  like  the  play  fund  in  the 
child,  was  natural  to  him,  and  not  to  be  repelled.  Indifferent  as 
to  the  medium,  through  pen  or  brush,  it  constantly  flowed.  His 
poems  delighted  his  friends,  to  whom  he  read  them,  from  time 
to  time,  as  he  would  show  a  picture.  In  1811  he  was  invited  to 
read  a  poem  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  of  Harvard  College, 
which  was  highly  praised.    His  classmate,  Leonard  Jarvis,  in  a 


Portrait  of  Allstoris  Mother. 

From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  Cornelius  Vanderbilt,  of  New  York. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


83 


letter  to  E.  H.  Dana,  Sr.,  from  which  we  have  already  quoted, 
referring  to  his  meeting  with  Allston  on  the  occasion  of  this 
visit,  thus  writes : 

"  After  we  graduated,  in  1800,  I  lost  sight  of  my  friend  un- 
til he  returned  to  this  country  in  1809.  We  met  unexpectedly 
on  Congress  Street,  Boston;  our  greeting  was  most  cordial,  and 
our  former  intimacy  was  at  once  renewed.  He  soon  engaged  a 
room  in  an  old  building  where  the  granite  erections  of  Brattle 
Street  now  are,  which  had  been  previously  occupied  by  Johnson, 
the  portrait-painter.  Here  he  painted  a  portrait  of  your  brother 
Edmund,*  for  which  he  sat  so  often  and  so  long  that  Welles 
drolly  asked  him  one  day  whether  he  did  not  think  such  a  sed- 
entary life  would  be  injuring  his  health.  Here,  too,  he  painted 
a  sea-piece,  and  also  '  Catherine  and  Petruchio,'  and  the  1  Poor 
Author's  Visit  to  the  Kich  Bookseller.' 

"  He  occupied  this  room  at  the  time  of  his  marriage,  in  1809, 
and  here  I  found  him,  on  the  morning  after  his  nuptials,  at  his 
usual  hour,  engaged  at  his  customary  occupation.  While  he  oc- 
cupied this  room,  as  I  had  a  leisure  interval  between  my  trans- 
atlantic excursions,  I  passed  much  of  my  time  with  him,  and 
found  him  the  same  unsophisticated,  pure-minded,  artless,  gentle 
being  that  I  had  known  at  college.  He  had  the  same  oddities, 
the  same  tastes,  and  the  only  change  I  could  discover  was  that 
his  diffidence  had  increased  with  his  years.  I  mean  his  diffi- 
dence in  the  company  of  ladies,  for  of  his  own  powers  as  an 
artist  he  never  entertained  a  doubt.  It  was  impossible  that  he 
should  not  be  conscious  of  his  extraordinary  genius,  but  he  was 
without  vanity  or  self-conceit.  It  was  about  this  time  that, 
during  a  dinner-party  at  the  house  of  the  late  Jonathan  Harris, 
the  conversation  turned  upon  Allston,  and  Mrs.  Harris  produced 
a  miniature  likeness  of  her  eldest  son,  painted  by  Allston  in  the 
earlier  part  of  his  college  life.    It  was  not  without  difficulty  and 

*E.  T.  Dana. 


84 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


with  reiterated  charges  to  be  careful  of  it  that  I  persuaded  the 
good  lady  to  intrust  me  with  the  miniature  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  it  to  Allston.  I  carried  it  to  his  room  and  told  him 
that  a  lad,  in  whom  I  felt  a  strong  interest,  was  very  earnest  to 
become  an  artist,  but  his  friends  were  averse  to  it,  and  that  I 
had  with  me  a  specimen  of  his  skill  which  I  wanted  to  show 
him,  and  to  obtain  his  opinion  whether  he  thought  the  lad  would 
ever  rise  to  eminence  in  the  art.  After  some  hesitation  he 
agreed  to  give  me  his  opinion  frankly,  and  I  put  the  miniature 
into  his  hands.  I  shall  never  forget  his  start  of  surprise,  and 
the  queer  expression  of  his  countenance  as  he  exclaimed,  '  O 
God ! '  and  then  held  the  miniature  in  different  lights,  screwing 
his  mouth  about,  and  turning  his  head  first  upon  one  shoulder 
and  then  on  the  other,  in  a  peculiar  way  he  had  when  examining 
a  picture.  '  Well,  Allston,  what  do  you  say  to  it  ?  '  '  Why,  it  is 
a  queer-looking  thing  !  How  old  do  you  say  he  is  ?  '  '  About 
sixteen  or  seventeen.'  '  What  are  his  pecuniary  circumstances  ? ' 
'  Sufficiently  prosperous  to  insure  him  a  good  education  and  give 
him  a  handsome  outset  in  life.' 

"  He  still  kept  looking  at  the  miniature.  '  Well,  Allston, 
what  is  your  opinion  ?  '  He  still  hesitated,  but  at  last,  by  dint 
of  urging,  I  drew  from  him  that  the  young  man  had  better  follow 
the  advice  of  his  friends,  for  he  did  not  think  it  possible  that  he 
could  ever  excel  as  an  artist.  I  then  asked  him  if  he  had  no  sus- 
picion who  the  young  man  was.  '  No ;  do  I  know  him  ? '  '  Why? 
as  to  that  I  can't  say,  for  people  are  not  very  apt  to  know  them- 
selves.' '  You  surely  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  ever  painted  that 
thing?'  'I  do.'  'It  is  impossible.'  'It  is  not  only  possible, 
but  certain.  Don't  you  remember  painting  a  miniature  likeness 
of  John  Harris  while  at  college  ?  '  '  I  do,'  said  he.  '  I  do,  and  it 
begins  to  come  back  to  me  now ;  but  I  could  not  have  believed 
that  I  ever  painted  so  indifferently.  This  will  be  a  lesson  to  me 
as  long  as  I  live  never  to  discourage  anyone  who  thinks  he  has 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


85 


stuff  in  him.  I  know  what  I  am  and  what  I  was  then,  but  I  can 
find  nothing  in  that  miniature  that  would  lead  me  to  suppose 
that  the  person  who  painted  it  could  ever  rise  to  mediocrity  in 
the  art."' 

This  brings  to  mind  an  incident  relating  to  Stuart  Newton 
during  his  art  studies  in  Italy.  He  was  drawing  from  the  antique 
in  the  school  of  Bezzoli,  at  Florence,  an  artist  of  eminence  under 
the  patronage  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.  After  Newton  had 
drawn  a  few  weeks  in  the  school,  Bezzoli  advised  him  to  abandon 
his  purpose  of  becoming  an  artist,  as  he  had  not  the  talent 
requisite  to  success.  Newton  withdrew,  and  in  his  own  room 
painted  a  picture  and  invited  Bezzoli  to  look  at  it.  On  examin- 
ing it  Bezzoli  expressed  great  surprise,  and  remarked  that  the 
color  was  good,  that  it  reminded  him  of  the  Venetian  school,  and, 
said  he,  "  What  puzzles  me  most  is  that  the  drawing  is  so  good." 
Newton  replied  :  "I  cannot  see  form  apart  from  color."  Stuart 
Newton's  career  in  art  was  brief.  He  died  at  an  early  age,  and 
left  comparatively  few  pictures,  but  his  work  in  the  South  Ken- 
sington Museum  is  quite  sufficient  to  show  how  mistaken  was  the 
judgment  of  his  Tuscan  teacher. 

Jarvis's  letter  continues :  "  On  my  return  from  Europe,  in 
1810,  I  found  him  in  Devonshire  Street,  about  a  stone's  throw 
from  State  Street.  He  here  painted  a  landscape  of  American 
scenery  and  a  sunrise,  of  which  your  brother  said  to  me,  two  or 
three  years  ago,  in  speaking  of  Allston's  love  for  his  bed  in  the 
morning,  that  he  had  often  said  that  Allston  must  be  a  genius, 
since  he  could  paint  what  he  had  never  seen.  I  told  Ned  that 
this  picture  afforded  proof  positive  that  Allston  had  never  seen 
the  sun  rise,  for  if  he  had  he  would  never  have  painted  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  sun  in  the  water  widening  as  it  approached  the  fore- 
ground. In  the  summer  of  1811  our  friend  left  this  country  and 
established  himself  in  London,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing him  in  the  autumn  of  that  year.    He  was  at  housekeeping, 


8G 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


and  I  never  saw  him  when  he  appeared  so  perfectly  happy  as 
then." 

In  1811  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Allston,  accompanied  by  S.  F.  B.  Morse, 
sailed  for  England.  Upon  his  graduation  from  Yale  College  he 
sought  Allston's  acquaintance,  his  taste  for  drawing  and  painting 
inclining  him  to  adopt  art  as  a  profession.  This  inclination  was 
strongly  encouraged  by  Allston,  and  resulted  in  Morse's  becom- 
ing his  pupil,  and  not  only  his  pupil,  but  his  life-long  friend 
and  admirer.    In  one  of  his  early  letters  to  America  he  writes : 

"  Mr.  Allston  is  our  most  intimate  friend  and  companion.  I 
can't  feel  too  grateful  to  him  for  his  attentions  to  me  ;  he  calls 
every  day  and  superintends  all  that  we  are  doing.  When  I  am 
at  a  stand  and  perplexed  in  some  parts  of  a  picture,  he  puts  me 
right,  and  encourages  me  to  proceed  by  praising  those  parts 
which  he  thinks  good ;  but  he  is  faithful,  and  always  tells  me 
when  anything  is  bad.  It  is  mortifying  sometimes,  when  I  have 
been  painting  all  day  very  hard,  and  begin  to  be  pleased  with 
what  I  have  done,  and  on  showing  it  to  Mr.  Allston,  with  the 
expectation  of  praise,  and  not  only  of  praise,  but  a  score  of  'ex- 
cellents,'  '  well-dones,'  and  'admirables' — I  say  it  is  mortifying  to 
hear  him,  after  a  long  silence,  say,  'Yery  bad,  sir;  that  is  not 
flesh,  it  is  mud,  sir ;  it  is  painted  with  brick-dust  and  clay.'  I 
have  felt  sometimes  ready  to  dash  my  palette-knife  through  it, 
and  to  feel  at  the  moment  quite  angry  with  him ;  but  a  little  re- 
flection restores  me.  I  see  that  Mr.  Allston  is  not  a  flatterer  but 
a  friend,  and  that  really  to  improve  I  must  see  my  faults.  What 
he  says  after  this  always  puts  me  in  good  humor  again.  He  tells 
me  to  put  a  few  flesh  tints  here,  a  few  gray  ones  there,  and  to 
clear  up  such  and  such  a  part  by  such  and  such  colors ;  and  not 
only  that,  but  takes  the  palette  and  brushes,  and  shows  me  how. 
In  this  way  he  assists  me  ;  I  think  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  bless- 
ings that  I  am  under  his  eyes.  I  don't  know  how  many  errors 
I  might  have  fallen  into  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  attentions." 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


87 


Six  months  after  Morse  and  Allston  arrived  in  England, 
Charles  E.  Leslie,  a  young  American,  full  of  enthusiasm  for  the 
study  of  art,  arrived  in  London.  There  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Morse,  and,  with  him,  became  Allston's  pupil.  Like 
Morse,  Leslie  became  a  student  at  the  Koyal  Academy,  under 
West.    Of  Allston  Leslie  says  : 

"  My  first  instructors  in  painting  were  Mr.  West  and  Mr.  All- 
ston. It  was  Allston  who  first  awakened  what  little  sensibility  I 
may  possess  to  the  beauties  of  color.  He  first  directed  my  atten- 
tion to  the  Venetian  school,  particularly  to  the  works  of  Paul 
Veronese,  and  taught  me  to  see,  through  the  accumulated  dirt  of 
ages,  the  exquisite  charm  that  lay  beneath.  Yet,  for  a  long  time, 
I  took  the  merits  of  the  Venetians  on  trust,  and,  if  left  to  myself, 
should  have  preferred  works  which  I  now  feel  to  be  comparatively 
worthless.  I  remember  when  the  picture  of  "The  Ages,'  by 
Titian,  was  first  pointed  out  to  me  by  Allston  as  an  exquisite 
work,  I  thought  he  was  laughing  at  me." 

In  answer  to  the  statement  that  Morse  was  a  pupil  of  Mr. 
West,  we  cite  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  written  in  1813  : 

"  I  cannot  close  this  letter  without  telling  you  how  much  I 
am  indebted  to  that  excellent  man,  Mr.  Allston.  He  is  extremely 
partial  to  me,  and  has  often  told  me  that  he  is  proud  of  calling 
me  his  pupil ;  he  visits  me  every  evening,  and  our  conversation 
is  generally  upon  the  inexhaustible  subject  of  our  divine  art,  and 
upon  home,  which  is  next  in  our  thoughts.  I  know  not  in  what 
words  to  speak  of  Mr.  Allston.  I  can  truly  say  I  do  not  know 
the  slightest  imperfection  in  him  ;  he  is  amiable,  affectionate, 
learned;  the  possessor  of  the  greatest  powers  of  mind  and 
genius ;  modest,  unassuming,  and,  above  all,  a  religious  man. 
You  may,  perhaps,  suppose  that  my  partiality  for  him  blinds  me 
to  his  faults  ;  but  no  man  could  conceal,  on  so  long  an  acquaint- 
ance, every  little  foible  from  one  so  constantly  in  his  company ; 
and  during  the  whole  of  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Allston  I 


88 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


never  heard  him  speak  a  peevish  word,  or  utter  a  single  incon- 
siderate sentence.  He  is  a  man  of  whom  I  cannot  speak  suf- 
ficiently, and  my  love  for  him  can  only  compare  with  that  love 
which  ought  to  subsist  between  brothers.  He  is  a  man  for 
whose  genius  I  have  the  highest  veneration ;  for  whose  princi- 
ples I  have  the  greatest  respect ;  and  for  whose  amiable  proper- 
ties I  have  an  increasing  love.  .  .  .  You  must  recollect, 
when  you  tell  friends  that  I  am  studying  in  England,  that  I  am 
a  pupil  of  Mr.  Allston  and  not  Mr.  West ;  they  will  not  long  ask 
you  who  Mr.  Allston  is ;  he  will  very  soon  astonish  the  world. 
It  is  said  by  the  greatest  connoisseurs  in  England,  who  have 
seen  some  of  Mr.  Allston's  works,  that  he  is  destined  to  revive 
the  art  of  painting  in  all  its  splendor,  and  that  no  age  ever 
boasted  of  so  great  a  genius.  It  might  be  deemed  invidious 
were  I  to  make  public  another  opinion  of  the  first  men  in  this 
country ;  it  is,  that  Mr.  Allston  will  almost  as  far  surpass  Mr. 
West  as  Mr.  West  has  other  artists,  and  this  is  saying  a  great 
deal,  considering  the  very  high  standing  which  Mr.  West  enjoys 
at  present." 

Morse's  opinion,  given  in  the  above  letter,  was  shared  by 
his  fellow-pupil,  Leslie,  who  became  a  member  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  rose  to  high  rank  among  English  artists  of  his 
day. 

Mr.  Morse  was  the  founder  of  the  National  Academy  of  De- 
sign, and  its  president  for  a  number  of  years.  In  1866  he  pur- 
chased Leslie's  portrait  of  Allston,  and  presented  it  to  the  Acad- 
emy with  these  words :  "  There  are  associations  in  my  mind  with 
those  two  eminent  and  beloved  names  which  appeal  too  strongly 
to  me  to  be  resisted.  .  .  .  Allston  was,  more  than  any  other 
person,  my  master  in  art.  Leslie  was  my  life-long  friend  and 
fellow-pupil,  whom  I  loved  like  a  brother.  We  all  lived  to- 
gether for  years  in  the  closest  intimacy  and  in  the  same  house." 


CHAPTEK  VIII. 


PAINTING  AND  PURCHASE  OF  "THE  ANGEL  RELEASING  ST.  PETER 
FROM  PRISON." — ALLSTON'S  SKILL  IN  PERSPECTIVE. — APPRE- 
CIATIVE LETTERS  FROM  SIR  GEORGE  BEAUMONT  AND  THOMAS 
APPLETON. — CURIOUS  FATE  OF  THE  PICTURE. 

Allston  returned  to  England  under  auspices  full  of  encourage- 
ment. A  new  chapter  in  life  had  been  happily  begun.  The 
foundation  of  a  high  reputation  had  been  well  laid ;  thorough- 
ness had  marked  its  progress.  He  had  not  begun  to  read  be- 
fore he  had  learned  the  alphabet  of  his  art.  No  royal  road  had 
enticed  his  untrained  powers.  Hand,  eye,  and  brain,  had  worked 
symmetrically  up  to  self-confidence  and  enviable  public  recogni- 
tion, when,  in  the  buoyancy  of  youth,  he  made  his  home  with  his 
bride  in  London.  He  had  not  returned  to  strangers  to  cope 
with  untried  obstacles  in  that  human  wilderness,  but  to  friends, 
admirers,  and  patrons.  Thus,  under  most  favorable  circum- 
stances, he  entered  again  upon  his  career  in  London,  with  every 
promise  of  success. 

One  of  the  first  to  recognize  his  genius  at  this  time  was  Sir 
George  Beaumont.  He  was  intimately  acquainted  with  English 
art  of  the  time  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  and  was  a  liberal  patron 
of  artists,  down  to  the  time  of  Haydon.  He  was  himself  an 
amateur  painter  of  marked  ability.  One  of  his  pictures,  that  of 
"The  Cynical  Philosopher,"  was  owned  by  the  National  Gallery. 
He  was  a  man  of  high  literary  tastes ;  Allston  and  he  became 
very  warm  friends. 


90 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Allston  had  already  formed  a  conception  of  his  great  picture, 
"  The  Dead  Man  Kevived,"  and  had  completed  a  careful  study 
on  a  small  canvas.  This  so  impressed  Sir  George  that,  soon 
after  seeing  it,  he  wrote  Allston  the  following  letter : 

"  Coleorton  Hall,  Ashby-de-la-Zouch,  August  21,  1812. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  Your  picture  gave  me  so  much  satisfaction 
and  so  fully  answered  all  the  expectations  which  had  been  raised 
in  my  mind  respecting  your  power,  that  I  cannot  refrain  from 
troubling  you  with  a  line  or  two  of  congratulation ;  if  you  accom- 
plish the  work  with  the  same  happiness  with  which  it  is  con- 
ceived (and  I  have  no  doubt  upon  the  subject),  I  think  I  may 
venture  to  promise  you  the  approbation  of  all  those  whose  judg- 
ments are  deserving  of  your  consideration.  I  could  not  well 
judge  the  effect  of  light  and  shadow  in  the  state  in  which  I  saw 
it ;  but  I  take  it  for  granted  you  intend  to  make  it  very  powerful, 
having  Rembrandt  more  in  your  mind  than  S.  del  Piombo,  with 
regard  to  that  part  of  the  arrangement.  I  think  large  portions 
of  shadow,  '  deep,  yet  clear,'  blank  almost  at  a  sudden  glance, 
yet  broken  with  nameless  tints  and  mysterious  approaches  to 
shape,  have  a  wonderful  effect  upon  the  mind  in  subjects  of 
this  elevated  description.  In  this  particular  Rembrandt  is  so 
happy  that  the  little  picture  of  '  The  Crucifixion '  now  before 
me,  makes  my  very  blood  run  cold,  and  I  have  frequently 
thought,  in  spite  of  his  Dutch  virgins  and  occasional  vulgarities, 
there  is  as  much  of  the  true  sublime  in  the  light  and  shadow  of 
Rembrandt  as  in  the  lines  of  Michael  Angelo.  At  any  rate,  it 
would  be  well  to  endeavor  to  unite  excellencies  which  if  brought 
together  would,  according  to  my  feelings,  delight  and  astonish 
the  world.  With  regard  to  color,  I  should  wish  you  by  all 
means  to  avoid  a  large  portion  of  cold  tint,  but  I  am  taking  lib- 
erties which  I  hope  you  will  excuse  for  the  sake  of  my  zeal,  and 
I  will  now  come  to  the  business  of  my  letter. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


01 


"  I  have  a  great  desire  to  place  a  work  of  yours  in  this 
church  ;  there  is  a  place  which  I  think  would  afford  a  good  light 
to  a  picture  of  small  dimensions,  a  whole  length,  perhaps  some- 
thing larger.  I  will  now  be  very  open  with  you.  My  expenses  in 
building,  etc.,  have  been,  and  continue  to  be,  so  very  heavy  that  I 
cannot  afford  more  than  two  hundred  pounds  for  this  indulgence, 
and  if  that  sum  appears  inadequate,  I  trust  you  will  tell  me  so 
with  the  same  friendly  spirit  which  I  take  the  liberty  to  use. 

"  If  this  offer  meets  with  your  approbation,  perhaps  in  the 
course  of  a  month  or  two  you  may  find  time  to  leave  your  work 
for  a  little  relaxation  and  look  at  the  spot,  the  more  time  you 
can  afford  us  the  better.  We  shall  be  here  till  the  end  of  Octo- 
ber. We  may  hope  for  a  fine  autumn.  I  have  now  taken  up 
much  of  your  time,  and  will  only  add  Lady  Beaumont's  best 
wishes  to  those  of, 

"  Your  faithful  and  devoted  friend, 

"Geo.  Beaumont." 

The  result  of  Sir  George  Beaumont's  offer  of  two  hundred 
pounds  for  a  picture  to  place  in  the  church  he  was  then  building, 
was  a  work  for  which  five  hundred  pounds,  even  at  that  time, 
would  have  been  only  a  fair  price.  Sir  George  expected  a  com- 
paratively small  picture,  but  many  considerations  led  Allston  to 
increase  the  size.  Among  these  we  may  regard  as  foremost  a 
desire  to  gratify  his  friend.  The  office  of  the  picture,  too,  if 
we  may  so  express  it,  was  another  important  consideration.  It 
was  to  minister  to  souls.  It  was  to  occupy  a  prominent  place 
in  the  little  parish  church  at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch.  There,  as  from 
Sunday  to  Sunday,  the  gentry  and  the  working  people,  with  their 
children,  assembled  for  worship,  the  angel  would  greet  them  and 
turn  their  thoughts  heavenward.  With  such  possibilities  in  view, 
Allston  needed  no  other  stimulus  to  enlist  his  highest  powers, 
and  secure  his  best  work. 


92 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


The  subject  was  happily  chosen,  "  The  Angel  Releasing  St. 
Peter  "—divine  interposition  in  behalf  of  the  imprisoned — an 
angel  symbolizing  the  power  of  truth  to  emancipate.  Allston's 
religious  sensibilities  responded  to  such  thoughts  till  his  work 
seemed  radiant  with  a  divine  influence. 

Martin,  the  famous  painter  of  grand  architectural  composi- 
tions, was  in  Allston's  studio  when  he  was  engaged  on  this  pict- 
ure, and  had  just  introduced  the  winding  stairway,  he  asked 
Martin  if  he  would  make  a  drawing,  putting  the  stairs  in  correct 
perspective.  Martin  assented,  but  was  so  dilatory  that  Allston, 
becoming  impatient  of  the  delay,  went  on  and  painted  the  stairs. 
When  Martin  brought  his  drawing,  and  found  the  stairs  com- 
pleted, he  carefully  compared  them  with  his  mathematically 
accurate  lines,  and  said,  "  They  are  so  correct  as  really  to  need 
no  alteration." 

The  following  letter  from  Sir  George  shows  his  appreciation 
of  the  picture : 

"  My  Deae  Sik  :  I  am  just  returned  from  the  church,  where 
your  picture  hangs  in  full  view,  and  I  must  say  it  appears  to 
such  advantage  that  I  hope  sooner  or  later  you  will  see  it  in  this 
light.  Some  time  or  other  you  will  perhaps  be  induced  to  visit 
Mr.  Wordsworth  and  your  friends  in  the  north,  and  then  you 
will  recollect  this  place  is  hardly  out  of  your  way. 

"  Time  has  mellowed  the  colors,  and  the  general  tone  is 
much  improved.  Did  you  not  take  the  idea  of  the  angel's  wings 
from  those  of  the  dove  ?  It  appears  so  to  me,  and  I  think  them 
most  appropriate.  The  bluish  gray  suits  the  picture  admirably, 
and  the  downy  softness  of  the  inside  of  the  wing  is  excellently 
described.  As  to  the  background  of  the  picture,  it  is,  I  think, 
perfect,  the  gloom  and  depth  set  off  the  figures  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage. 

"To  you  who  have  been  accustomed  to  the  extended  lakes  of 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


93 


America,  our  comparatively  small  pools  would  appear  trifling ; 
still,  however,  I  think  you  would  be  much  gratified  with  the 
sight  of  them,  for  the  mountains  are  high  enough  to  induce  the 
clouds  to  repose  upon  their  bosoms,  and  that  is  the  criticism  by 
which  I  judge  what  is  the  proper  height  of  a  mountain.  Those 
upon  the  Wye,  although  well  formed,  are  not  high  enough  to 
produce  the  most  sublime  of  all  landscape  effects — the  union  of 
the  earth  with  the  heavens.  A  foggy  cloud,  shapeless  and  for- 
lorn, will  sometimes  drizzle  upon  them ;  but  I  like  to  see  fair, 
floating  summer  clouds  arrested  in  their  course,  unable  to  resist 
the  strong  attraction  of  the  mountain. 

"I  hope  your  head  has  not  been  affected  by  this  last  dreary 
weather,  and  equally  unpleasant  autumn  winds ;  but  in  spite  of 
them  we  were  often  favored  by  many  magnificent  cloud  effects, 
and  as  I  had  a  pretty  good  view  from  my  window,  with  pen  and 
pencil  I  set  the  weather  at  defiance. 

"  Lady  Beaumont  desires  me  to  thank  you  for  the  great  pleas- 
ure your  picture  has  given  her. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  your  most  faithful  servant, 

"G.  Beaumont. 

"  Have  you  seen  Coleridge  lately  ?  " 

Mr.  Thomas  G.  Appleton,  of  Boston,  while  in  England,  after 
Allston's  death,  visited  Sir  George  Beaumont,  and  saw  this  pict- 
ure, about  which  he  thus  wrote  to  Mr.  Dana,  Sr. : 

"  I  wish,  while  the  impression  is  strong  upon  me,  to  give 
you  some  idea  of  Allston's  fine  picture,  painted  for  Sir  George 
Beaumont ;  I  have  now  seen  it  twice,  and  the  last  visit,  particu- 
larly with  a  fine  morning  light,  deepened  and  enlarged  very  much 
my  first  idea  of  its  beauty.  Lady  Sitwell,  at  whose  house  I  have 
been  making  a  visit,  two  days  since,  drove  me  over  to  Coleorton 
Hall,  where  it  is — she  herself  having  become  interested  enough 
in  Allston  to  wish  to  see  it.  We  saw  it  there  to  disadvantage, 
as  the  evening  shadows  obscured  it ;  but  yesterday  I  walked  out 


94 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


to  see  it  again,  and  found  it  worthy  of  Allston  in  his  best  days. 
For  myself,  I  have  not  seen  a  picture  in  England  (certainly  not 
of  our  time)  I  should  prefer  to  it,  and  I  would  gladly  exchange 
'  all  Sir  George's  other  pictures  against  this  one.  The  picture  is 
jnot  far  from  the  size  of  '  Jeremiah,'  and  the  figures  natural  size, 
apparently.  It  is  hung  in  a  side  aisle  of  a  very  sweet  and  grace- 
ful church,  which  stands  like  a  guardian  angel  to  the  grounds 
near  the  house.  Its  frame  is  ungilt,  and  it  is  the  only  picture  in 
the  church,  so  that  it  rises  superior. 

"  If  you  were  to  see  these  lovely  grounds,  now  classic  through 
many  an  age  of  poets,  from  Fletcher's  associate  to  "Wordsworth 
and  Allston,  and  the  meek  and  simple  church,  half  hid  in  stately 
elms,  you  would,  I  am  sure,  think  your  friend's  picture  appropri- 
ately placed.  Yet  I  wish  it  were  in  America,  for  I  really  think 
we  are  more  impressionable  than  the  English  by  high  religious 
works  of  art,  and  it  would  do  more  good  there  than  here.  The 
angel  stands  with  feet  upon  two  different  steps  of  a  flight  of  stairs 
which  lead  out  of  the  prison,  and  through  the  open  door  of 
which  the  angel  has  come.  The  angel  is  perfectly  beautiful,  the 
most  simply  so  of  all  Allston's  faces  I  remember.  He  expresses 
perfect  happiness,  his  face  is  almost  expressionless,  only  a  divine 
necessity  of  joy  shines  throughout  him, 

 "  'that  grace 

So  eloquent  of  unimpassioned  love  ! 

That,  by  a  simple  movement,  thus  imparts 
Its  own  harmonious  peace,  the  while  our  hearts 

Eise,  as  by  instinct,  to  the  world  above.' 

"  His  nut-brown  hair  falls  in  clusters  round  his  head  and 
agrees  well  with  the  sweet  face.  He  is  clothed  all  in  white, 
pointing  with  expanded  and  radiant  hand  to  the  open  door,  while 
with  the  other  he  invites  the  astonished  saint.  The  saint's  face 
you  know  from  the  sketch  in  Boston.  His  whole  figure  is  of 
that  grand  mould  in  which  the  '  Jeremiah  '  is  cast.    A  dark  purple 


The  Angel  Liberating  St.  Peter  from  Prison 

From  the  original  study  for  the  large  picture  now  in  the  Hospital  f< 
Insane.  Worcester,  Mass. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


95 


drapery  envelops  him  from  below  the  waist;  one  hand  grasps 
his  chain,  while  he  supports  himself  with  the  other,  all  of  which 
is  in  deep  shadow.  On  either  side  the  two  guards  are  sleeping 
profoundly.  The  architecture  I  admire  more  than  any  in  all 
Allston's  pictures.  There  is  a  circular  flight  of  stairs  winding 
away  into  the  gloom,  while  the  shadow  is  relieved  from  above  by 
a  huge  disk  of  moonshine,  coming  through  the  grated  window 
in  the  roof.  From  all  of  this  you  will  get  very  little  idea  of  this 
noble  work,  but  you  may  think  it  better  than  nothing.  I  am 
glad  to  say  the  picture  is  perfectly  well-preserved.  It  is  high  in 
a  dry  aisle,  and  bids  fair  to  hold  its  color. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  communicate  at  present  relating  to 
Allston,  as  I  have  not  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  any  more  of 
his  pictures  than  the  '  Peter.'  If  I  should  ever  visit  Bristol,  I 
shall  make  it  a  point  of  looking  up  his  pictures  there,  of  which  I 
have  heard  some  little  said  since  my  visit  to  this  country." 

The  vicissitudes  of  fortune  induced  those  having  charge  of 
this  picture,  after  the  death  of  Sir  George  Beaumont,  to  dispose 
of  it  to  an  American  gentleman.  It  was  brought  to  America, 
and  presented  as  an  altar-piece  for  the  chapel  of  the  Hospital  for 
the  Insane  in  Worcester,  Mass.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  a  work 
of  such  beauty  and  high  artistic  merit  should  be  so  secluded. 
It  is  due  to  the  memory  of  its  author  that  it  should  be  placed 
where  it  can  readily  be  seen.  It  is  due  to  the  cause  of  art  culture 
in  America  that  this,  one  of  the  greatest  works  of  America's 
greatest  painter,  should  be  rescued  from  its  present  seclusion. 
As  the  angel  released  St.  Peter,  so  let  us  hope  that  the  pure 
spirit  of  love  for  art  will  release  from  its  prison  this  beautiful 
picture,  and  place  it  where  its  gentle  ministry  may  be  more  ex- 
tended ;  its  refining  and  elevating  influence  more  generally  felt 
and  acknowledged. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


"  THE  DEAD  MAN  KEVIVED  BY  TOUCHING  THE  BONES  OF  THE  PKOPHET 
ELISHA." — ALLSTON'S  OWN  DESCEIPTION  OF  THE  PICTUEE. — MAK- 
ING CLAY  MODELS  FOR  THE  WORK. — TAKES  THE  FIRST  PRIZE 
OF  TWO  HUNDRED  GUINEAS  WHEN  EXHIBITED  AT  THE  BRITISH  IN- 
STITUTION.— ALLSTON'S  SICKNESS  AND  VISIT  TO  BRISTOL. 

While  engaged  on  the  "  Dead  Man  Bevived,"  Allston  lost  his 
health  from  a  sufficient  and  obvious  cause.  Ambition  prompting 
and  reinforcing  his  enthusiasm,  led  him  to  a  continuous  violation 
of  one  of  the  most  important  laws  of  health.  So  engrossed  was 
he  by  the  great  work  in  hand  that  he  could  not,  or  did  not,  find 
time  to  care  for  his  bodily  nutrition.  This  went  on  for  three 
months,  when  the  limit  came,  and  violated  law  demanded  its 
penalty.  Alarming  symptoms  appeared,  which  his  physician  in 
London  failing  to  remove,  it  was  decided  to  take  him  to  Clifton 
for  change  of  scene  and  air.  In  speaking  of  this  illness  in  after- 
years,  Allston  loved  to  tell  of  the  kindness  of  his  friends,  and 
especially  of  Coleridge,  who  nursed  him  with  tender  and  affec- 
tionate solicitude.  The  penalty  demanded  for  his  imprudence 
was  life-long,  it  was  never  quite  paid  till  he  fell  asleep  with  the 
frosts  of  age  upon  him.  When  he  was  able  to  return  to  London 
his  physician  told  him  he  would  never  again  be  entirely  well. 
He  said  to  a  friend,  some  thirty  years  after  this,  that,  although 
he  had  been  tolerably  well,  he  had  never  experienced  an  hour  of 
buoyant  health  since  that  sickness. 

Leslie  was  so  affected  by  Allston's  illness  that  he  laid  aside 
his  own  work  and  gave  his  time  and  attention  to  him.  With 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


97 


Morse,  he  accompanied  him  on  the  trying  journey,  which  he  thus 
describes : 

"  I  think  it  was  in  the  summer  of  1813  that  Allston  was  at- 
tacked with  an  extremely  painful  disorder,  which,  increasing  in 
defiance  of  the  physician  to  whom  he  applied,  he  determined  to 
try  change  of  air.    Having  often  been  invited  by  his  uncle,  Mr. 
Vanderhorst,  who  lived  at  Bristol,  to  visit  that  neighborhood, 
he  and  Mrs.  Allston  set  out  for  Clifton  by  easy  stages,  accom- 
panied by  Mr.  Morse  and  myself.    But  Allston  became  so  ex- 
tremely unwell  on  reaching  Salt  Hill,  near  Windsor,  that  Mr. 
Morse  returned  to  London  to  acquaint  Coleridge,  who,  as  you 
know,  was  affectionately  attached  to  Allston,  with  the  alarming 
state  of  his  friend.    Coleridge  came  the  same  afternoon  to  Salt 
Hill  with  Dr.  Tuthill,  and  they  both  stayed  at  the  inn  with  All- 
ston for  the  few  days  that  he  was  confined  there.  As  soon  as  the 
patient  could  proceed  on  his  journey,  Coleridge  and  the  doctor  re- 
turned to  town,  and  we  travelled  on  slowly,  resting  a  day  at  Ox- 
ford (from  whence  he  visited  Blenheim),  and  another  day  at  Bath. 
Poor  Allston's  sufferings  were  so  frequent  and  so  great  that, 
though  he  looked  with  us  at  the  beautiful  things  we  saw,  they 
scarcely  afforded  him  a  moment's  enjoyment.    So  excruciating 
was  the  pain  he  felt  at  times  that  he  compared  it  to  what  he  sup- 
posed a  man  might  feel  if  the  region  of  his  bowels  were  filled  with 
boiling  vinegar.    I  spent  a  fortnight  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Allston 
at  Clifton,  and  had  then  the  pleasure  of  leaving  the  latter  conva- 
lescent, under  the  care  of  a  Mr.  King,  a  very  eminent  surgeon,  to 
whom  Coleridge  had  procured  him  a  letter  of  introduction  from 
Southey.    Allston  was,  however,  subject  to  a  good  deal  of  an- 
noyance from  Mr.  Vanderhorst  of  a  nature  to  be  severely  felt  in 
the  weak  and  nervous  state  to  which  his  acute  suffering  had  re- 
duced him.     The  old  gentleman  bore  an  inveterate  hatred  to 
the  medical  profession  and  to  every  class  of  its  members,  and 

it  was  necessary  to  keep  it  a  profound  secret  from  him  that 
7 


98 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


Allston  was  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  King.  This  was  no  easy  mat- 
ter, as  Mr.  Vanderhorst,  who  was  very  kind  to  his  nephew  in 
his  own  way,  visited  him  or  sent  to  him  every  day.  He  fre- 
quently sent  dishes  from  his  own  table,  which  was  a  very  lux- 
urious one.  He  believed  all  that  his  nephew  required  was  good 
air  and  nourishment,  and  the  dishes  he  sent  consisted  of  rich 
soups,  game,  puddings,  etc.,  not  one  of  which  the  patient,  who 
was  then  restricted  to  a  water-gruel,  was  permitted  to  touch. 
Allston's  gradual  amendment  was  soon  apparent  to  his  friends, 
and  it  was  amusing  to  see  Mr.  Vanderhorst  taking  all  the  merit 
of  the  cure  to  himself,  while  the  case  was  in  reality  a  surgical 
one,  and  Mr.  King  was  removing  some  internal  obstruction, 
which  caused  the  pain,  by  a  series  of  operations,  not,  I  believe, 
of  a  very  painful  nature.  '  My  nephew  would  have  been  dead 
by  this  time,'  said  Mr.  Vanderhorst,  '  if  he  had  allowed  one  of 
those  scoundrel  doctors  to  come  near  him.' 

"  Never  did  I  witness  greater  devotion  in  a  wife  to  a  husband 
than  Mrs.  Allston's  throughout  his  long  and  severe  trial.  He 
was  truly  blessed  in  having  a  bosom  friend,  *  An  Israelite  indeed 
without  guile,'  as  Cole  called  her,  and  he  has  again,  I  am  told, 
been  so  blessed.  I  remember  to  have  often  heard  Mrs.  Allston 
speak  of  her  brother,  Dr.  Channing,  before  he  was  known  to  the 
world  ;  '  that  little  Saint  "William '  was  her  usual  mode  of  intro- 
ducing any  anecdote  of  him.  "When  Dr.  Channing  visited  Eng- 
land I  had  the  happiness  of  seeing  him  frequently,  and  one  day, 
at  his  request,  accompanied  him  to  his  sister's  tomb." 

Allston's  sojourn  at  Clifton,  during  his  sickness,  was  beneficial 
in  many  ways ;  as  a  vacation,  taking  him  from  his  constant  brain- 
work,  it  was  important,  probably  necessary  to  his  recovery. 
During  his  convalescence  it  gave  the  much-needed  rest  which 
comes  from  change  of  occupation.  His  mind  was  active,  it  could 
not  be  idle,  but  it  worked  on  other  themes,  and  with  the  pen. 
Different  channels  of  thought,  and  a  different  medium  for  its  ex- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


99 


pression,  gave  relaxation,  helpful  and  restorative.  It  prepared 
his  mind  for  a  new  grasp  of  the  subject  which  had  so  exhausted 
his  vitality  and  threatened  his  life.  This  subject,  "  The  Dead 
Man  Revived,"  touched  his  genius  on  all  sides,  and  taxed  his 
powers  to  the  utmost.  It  charged  his  ambition  with  hope,  and 
rewarded  it  with  encouraging  progress  at  every  stage.  The 
design  was  startlingly  dramatic  and  impressive.  Its  effect  was 
grand  to  a  degree  that  placed  it  beyond  the  ordinary  range  of 
artistic  endeavor.  For  a  description  in  detail,  we  quote  Allston's 
own  words : 

"The  sepulchre  of  Elisha  is  supposed  to  be  in  a  cavern 
among  the  mountains,  such  places,  in  those  early  ages,  being 
used  for  the  interment  of  the  dead.  In  the  foreground  is  the 
man  at  the  moment  of  reanimation,  in  which  the  artist  has 
attempted,  both  in  the  action  and  color,  to  express  the  gradual 
recoiling  of  life  upon  death.  Behind  him,  in  a  dark  recess,  are 
the  bones  of  the  prophet,  the  skull  of  which  is  peculiarized  by  a 
preternatural  light.  At  his  head  and  feet  are  two  slaves,  bearers 
of  the  body,  the  ropes  still  in  their  hands,  by  which  they  have 
let  it  down,  indicating  the  act  that  moment  performed ;  the  emo- 
tion attempted  in  the  figure  at  the  feet  is  that  of  astonishment  and 
fear,  modified  by  doubt,  as  if  still  requiring  further  confirmation 
of  the  miracle  before  him ;  while  in  the  figure  at  the  head,  is  that 
of  unqualified,  immovable  terror.  In  the  most  prominent  group 
above  is  a  soldier  in  the  act  of  rushing  from  the  scene.  The 
violent  and  terrified  action  of  this  figure  was  chosen  to  illustrate 
the  miracle  by  the  contrast  which  it  exhibits  to  that  habitual 
firmness  supposed  to  belong  to  the  military  character,  showing 
his  emotion  to  proceed  from  no  mortal  cause.  The  figure  grasp- 
ing the  soldier's  arm,  and  pressing  forward  to  look  at  the  body, 
is  expressive  of  terror  overcome  by  curiosity.  The  group  on  the 
left,  or  rather  behind  the  soldier,  is  composed  of  two  men  of  two 
different  ages,  earnestly  listening  to  the  explanation  of  a  priest, 


100 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


who  is  directing  their  thoughts  to  heaven  as  the  source  of  the 
miraculous  change ;  the  boy  clinging  to  the  young  man  is  too 
young  to  comprehend  the  nature  of  the  miracle,  but,  like  children 
of  his  age,  unconsciously  partakes  of  the  general  impulse.  The 
group  on  the  right  forms  an  episode  consisting  of  the  wife  and 
daughter  of  the  reviving  man.  The  wife,  unable  to  withstand 
the  conflicting  emotions  of  the  past  and  the  present,  has  fainted ; 
and  whatever  joy  and  astonishment  may  have  been  excited  in  the 
daughter  by  the  sudden  revival  of  her  father  is  wholly  absorbed 
in  distress  and  solicitude  for  her  mother.  The  young  man,  with 
outstretched  arms,  actuated  by  impulse  (not  motive),  announces 
to  the  wife  by  a  sudden  exclamation  the  revival  of  her  husband ; 
the  other  youth,  of  a  mild  and  devotional  character,  is  still  in 
the  attitude  of  one  conversing — the  conversation  being  abrupt- 
ly broken  off  by  his  impetuous  companion.  The  sentinels  in 
the  distance,  at  the  entrance  of  the  cavern,  mark  the  depth  of 
the  picture  and  indicate  the  alarm  which  had  occasioned  this  tu- 
multary  burial." 

About  this  picture  Leslie  writes  :  "  In  the  preparatory  studies 
he  took  great  pains,  for  he  not  only  painted  a  small  one  of  the 
subject,  but  he  modelled  in  clay  (of  small  size)  the  principal 
figure,  over  which  he  cast  wetted  drapery  ;  and  he  also  modelled 
the  head  very  finely,  of  the  size  of  life.  (The  cast  of  the  head  of 
the  Dead  Man  was  in  his  studio  in  Cambridgeport.)  These 
models  proved  that  he  might  have  excelled  in  sculpture  as  well 
as  in  painting. 

"Encouraged  by  the  success  West  had  met  in  exhibiting 
large  pictures  from  sacred  history,  Allston  contemplated  an  exhi- 
bition of  this  picture,  and  when  near  its  completion  he  hired  a 
room  for  that  purpose,  in  Pall  Mall.  Morse  and  I  were  one  day 
with  him  when  he  was  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  his  work 
in  that  room ;  Allston  was  called  out  for  a  few  minutes  by  a 
stranger  (for  he  would  admit  no  one  but  intimate  friends),  and 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


101 


when  he  returned  he  told  us  that  a  little,  goggle-eyed  man,  in  a 
shabby  black  dress,  had  offered  his  services  to  write  a  paragraph 
in  praise  of  his  picture  for  the  newspapers,  having  seen  its  ap- 
proaching exhibition  advertised  in  them,  and  had  brought  the 
commencement  of  one,  which  he  read  to  Allston  as  a  specimen. 
It  ran  as  follows :  \  The  venerable  President  of  the  Koyal 
Academy  has  set  an  excellent  example  to  our  artists  by  selecting 
the  subject  for  his  pencil  from  the  inspired  writers,  which  ex- 
ample we  are  happy  to  see  followed  by  his  countryman,  Mr. 
Allston.  "  The  Dead  Man  Revived  by  Touching  the  Bones  of 
the  Prophet  Elisha,"  what  a  subject  for  descriptive  painting.' 
'  But,'  said  Allston,  1  this,  sir,  would  look  like  a  puff.'  '  No,  sir,' 
replied  the  author,  '  as  it  is  not  written  by  yourself  it  cannot  be 
called  the  Puff  Direct,  though  I  own  it  may  be  considered  some- 
what in  the  light  of  the  Puff  Oblique.' 

"  Allston  declined  the  assistance  of  the  little  gentleman,  say- 
ing he  would  rather  let  the  picture  take  its  chance  with  the  news- 
papers, upon  which  the  other  entered  into  a  long  narrative  of 
his  distresses.  Allston  said  :  '  Really,  sir,  I  am  so  poor  myself 
that  such  a  trifle  only  as  I  can  afford  to  give,  I  should  be  ashamed 
to  offer  to  a  gentleman.'  On  being  assured,  however,  that  the 
smallest  pittance  would  be  thankfully  received,  Allston  put  a 
half-crown  into  his  hand,  which  was  accepted  with  great  gratitude. 
I  think  it  was  by  the  advice  of  Sir  George  Beaumont  that  All- 
ston gave  up  his  intention  of  exhibiting  the  picture  himself,  and 
sent  it  to  the  British  Institution." 

Leslie,  in  a  letter  to  his  sister,  tells  of  West  visiting  the  stu- 
dio. "  I  believe  I  mentioned  to  you  before  that  Allston  was  about 
a  large  picture,  'The  Dead  Man  Revived.'  Mr.  West  called  on 
him  the  other  day  to  see  it,  and  was  quite  astonished,  'Why,  but,' 
he  exclaimed,  1  this  reminds  me  of  the  Fifteenth  Century  ;  you 
have  been  studying  in  the  highest  schools  of  art.'  He  added : 
1  There  are  eyes  in  this  country  that  will  be  able  to  see  so  much 


102 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


excellence ; '  and  then  turning  around  he  saw  a  head  Allston  had 
modelled  in  clay  from  one  of  the  figures,  and  asked  what  it  was, 
taking  it  to  be  an  antique.  Allston  told  him  it  was  one  of  his, 
at  which,  after  examining  it  carefully,  he  said,  there  was  not  a 
sculptor  in  England  could  do  anything  like  it.  He  did  not  find 
fault  with  any  part  of  the  picture,  but  he  merely  suggested  the 
introduction  of  another  figure. 

"I  was  never  more  delighted  in  my  life  than  when  I  heard 
this  praise  coming  from  Mr.  West,  and  so  perfectly  agreeing 
with  my  own  opinion  of  Allston.  He  has  been  in  high  spirits 
ever  since,  and  his  picture  has  advanced  amazingly  rapid  for 
these  two  or  three  days.  He  intends  sending  it  to  the  Exhibi- 
tion of  the  British  Gallery,  where  it  will  no  doubt  obtain  the 
prize." 

"  The  Dead  Man  Eevived  "  was  first  exhibited  at  the  British 
Institution,  commonly  called  the  British  Gallery,  and  it  there 
obtained  the  first  prize  of  two  hundred  guineas.  This  was  the 
first  important  work  Allston  had  ever  exhibited.  It  made  a  great 
sensation  in  art  circles  in  London.  It  was  generally  acknowl- 
edged to  be  a  work  that  should  rank  prominently  in  the  domain 
of  the  highest  art.  Mr.  West,  expressing  his  admiration  of  it, 
said  of  Allston,  "He  has  commenced  where  most  of  us  leave  off." 
When  such  men  as  West,  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  and  Sir  William 
Beechy  regarded  it  with  admiration,  no  one  could  be  found  to 
question  his  right  to  the  general  applause  which  was  heard  on 
all  sides. 

The  attention  this  picture  received  was  extremely  encourag- 
ing. The  praises  it  called  forth  were  extravagant  upon  any 
theory  that  did  not  place  it  upon  a  par  with  the  works  of  the 
old  masters.  The  prize  of  two  hundred  guineas  it  received  stim- 
ulated Allston's  ambition  and  inspired  him  with  great  purposes. 
It  was  a  voucher  for  his  ability  and  an  encouragement  to  still 
greater  effort. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


103 


The  following  congratulatory  letter  from  Sir  George  Beau- 
mont was  written  just  after  the  exhibition  of  his  picture : 

"Dunnow,  January  16,  1814. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  am  truly  sorry  to  hear  your  health  has 
been  in  such  a  bad  state.  I  hope,  however,  you  will  feel  the 
benefit  of  the  air  you  have  inhaled  at  Clifton  more  in  London 
than  whilst  you  were  upon  the  spot.  This  I  know  is  not  infre- 
quently the  case.  I  assure  you  I  have  been  very  anxious  on  your 
account,  and  have  been  prevented  from  writing  only  by  having 
by  some  accident  mislaid  your  letter  and  not  being  able  to  recol- 
lect the  address.  I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  your  sufferings  and 
heartily  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to  relieve  them.  I  am  very 
glad  to  hear  you  have  completed  your  picture,  which  I  have  no 
doubt  will  do  you  great  credit.  I  should  have  been  happy  to 
have  been  in  town  at  the  time  the  arrangement  of  the  British 
Gallery  took  place,  but  I  am  at  present  attending  Lady  Beau- 
mont, my  mother,  in  an  illness  which  has  every  appearance 
of  ending  fatally,  altho'  she  is  now  somewhat  better ;  this  I  hope 
will  excuse  me  for  writing  in  haste.  In  such  an  anxious  state  it 
is  difficult  to  confine  one's  thoughts  to  other  subjects.  I  will 
therefore  ODly  add  at  present,  that  I  like  the  subject  you  mention 
extremely ;  it  is  simple,  well  known,  and  capable  of  a  pungent 
effect,  which  I  would  wish  you  to  push  to  the  utmost  bounds  of 
propriety. 

"  I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  with  every  good  wish,  most  faithfully 
yours, 

"George  Beaumont. 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  hear  of  the  progress  of  your  health,  and 
when  you  can  with  prudence  attend  to  a  sketch,  I  should  be  glad 
to  have  it  sent  here,  for  my  stay  at  this  place  may  probably  be 
long." 


CHAPTEE  X. 


THE  PORTRAIT  OF  COLERIDGE. — ALLSTON's  OWN  OPINION  OF  IT. — 
WORDSWORTH'S  JUDGMENT. — WHAT  THE  LONDON  "  GUARDIAN  " 
SAID. — ALLSTON'S  APPRECIATION  OF  COLERIDGE'S  GENIUS. 

Allston  says :  "  As  I  returned  to  London  chiefly  to  finish  this 
picture  ('  The  Dead  Man  Revived '),  that  done,  I  went  back  to 
Bristol,  where  I  painted  and  left  a  number  of  pictures ;  among 
these  were  half-length  portraits  of  my  friend  Mr.  Coleridge,  and 
my  medical  friend,  Mr.  King,  of  Clifton.  I  have  painted  but 
few  portraits,  and  these  I  think  are  my  best.  So  far  as  I  can 
judge  of  my  own  production  the  likeness  of  Coleridge  is  a  true 
one,  but  it  is  Coleridge  in  repose  ;  and,  though  not  unstirred  by 
the  perpetual  ground-swell  of  his  ever-working  intellect,  and 
shadowing  forth  something  of  the  deep  philosopher,  it  is  not 
Coleridge  in  his  highest  mood,  the  poetic  state,  when  the  divine 
afflatus  of  the  poet  possessed  him.  When  in  that  state,  no  face 
that  I  ever  saw  was  like  his ;  it  seemed  almost  spirit  made  visible 
without  a  shadow  of  the  physical  upon  it.  Could  I  then  have 
fixed  it  upon  canvas !  but  it  was  beyond  the  reach  of  my  art. 
He  was  the  greatest  man  I  have  ever  known,  and  one  of  the 
best;  as  his  nephew,  Henry  Nelson,  truly  said,  'a  thousand 
times  more  sinned  against  than  sinning ! '  " 

There  has  been  a  conflict  of  statements  relating  to  this  por- 
trait. By  some  it  is  said  to  have  been  painted  in  Borne  ;  others, 
with  equal  positiveness,  assert  that  it  was  done  in  Bristol,  after 
his  serious  illness  there.  Both  statements  are  true,  but  not  of 
the  portrait  in  question.    The  conflict  arises  from  a  confusion 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


105 


of  facts.  There  are  two  portraits  of  Coleridge  by  Allston.  The 
one  of  earliest  date  was  never  finished.  It  was  commenced  in 
Rome,  and  well  advanced,  though  far  from  finished,  when  it 
was  arrested  in  its  progress  by  Coleridge's  sudden  departure  to 
England.  This  portrait  is  now  in  Boston,  in  the  possession  of 
Allston's  niece,  Miss  R.  Charlotte  Dana.  It  is  extremely  inter- 
esting and  does  not  disappoint  the  admirers  of  Coleridge.  The 
Bristol  portrait  was  painted  for  a  friend  and  ardent  admirer, 
Mr.  Wade.  He  valued  it  so  highly  that  he  wished  it  kept  in  his 
family,  and  although  he  assented  to  the  opinion  of  Wordsworth 
that  .it  should  be  placed  in  some  public  gallery,  he  nevertheless 
gave  it,  by  his  will,  to  a  relative,  with  the  injunction  that  he 
should  not  part  with  it. 

During  the  latter  part  of  Allston's  life  Wordsworth  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  Professor  Henry  Reed,  of  Philadelphia,  about  the 
final  disposition  of  the  portrait,  which  he  thought,  in  accordance 
with  the  verbal  assent  given  by  Mr.  Wade,  should  be  placed  in 
one  of  the  public  galleries  of  England.  Professor  Reed  forwarded 
this  letter  to  Allston  for  his  opinion  and  approval,  and  Allston 
replied,  in  one  of  the  very  last  letters  he  ever  wrote,  concurring 
in  Wordsworth's  ideas,  and  expressing  his  wishes  in  regard  to  an 
engraver,  as  the  subject  of  engraving  this  portrait  had  been  much 
discussed.  It  was  not  till  ten  years  after  Allston's  death  that 
Mr.  Derwent  Coleridge,  son  of  the  poet,  succeeded  in  obtaining 
permission  to  place  it  in  the  engraver's  hands. 

We  quote  from  the  London  Guardian  of  November  29,  1854 : 
"  Mr.  Moxon  has  published  a  portrait  of  S.  T.  Coleridge, 
which  will  be  received  with  great  pleasure  by  the  admirers  of 
that  celebrated  man.  It  is  engraved  by  Mr.  Samuel  Cousins, 
from  a  picture  by  the  American  painter,  Mr.  Washington  All- 
ston, himself  a  man  of  great  ability,  quite  capable  of  appreciating 
his  sitter,  and  very  intimate  with  him.  It  is  by  far  the  finest 
portrait  of  Coleridge  in  existence,  and  so  much  more  recalls  the 


106 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


power  and  intellect  of  his  face  than  any  other  we  ever  saw.  It 
was  painted  when  he  was  forty-two  years  old,  but  it  retains  a 
great  deal  of  the  appearance  he  presented  when  we  remember 
him  in  much  later  life.  We  can  quite  believe  what  is  said  of  the 
picture  by  those  who  recollect  Coleridge  when  it  was  painted, 
that  it  was  at  that  time  an  excellent  likeness.  He  is  sitting  in  a 
room  which  has  something  of  an  antique  cast  about  it,  with  his 
hand  upon  a  book,  looking  upward ;  the  portliness  and  white 
hair  of  middle  life  have  come  upon  him,  but  the  expression  of 
his  face  is  very  refined  and  beautiful,  and  the  form  of  his  head 
grand  and  noble,  and  exceedingly  like  the  well-known  cast  of  it 
by  Spurzheim.  The  engraving  is  a  choice  specimen  of  Mr. 
Cousin's  mixed  style  of  engraving,  in  which  almost  every  effect 
of  color  is  given  by  light  and  shade. 

It  was  no  doubt  due  chiefly  to  Wordsworth's  influence  that 
the  original  painting  was  placed  in  the  British  National  Portrait 
Gallery  where  it  now  hangs.  The  friendship  that  existed  be- 
tween Coleridge  and  Allston  at  the  time  this  portrait  was  painted 
was  so  sincere  and  intimate  that  it  was  frequently  remarked  upon 
by  their  friends,  one  of  whom,  Mr.  Joseph  Henry  Green,  writes, 
in  a  letter  to  Richard  H.  Dana,  Sr.  : 

"  Coleridge  never  failed,  when  Allston's  name  was  mentioned, 
to  express  his  high  admiration  of  his  genius,  both  as  a  poet  and 
a  painter,  and  always  spoke  most  warmly  of  his  character  as  a 
man ;  indeed  the  name  of  Allston  may  be  adduced  as  proof  and 
instance  of  Coleridge's  often-repeated  assertion  that  true  genius 
ever  has  its  taproot  in  the  moral  being,  and  I  hold  it  scarcely 
possible  that  Coleridge  could  have  felt  the  affection,  which  he 
undoubtedly  did,  toward  Allston,  without  having  had  the  strong- 
est assurance  of  those  excellent  qualities  of  the  heart,  which, 
whatever  sympathy  their  common  tastes  and  pursuits  might 
have  produced,  were  the  real  ground  of  his  attachment  and  un- 
deviating  friendship. 


Portrait  of  5.  T.  Coleridge. 

From  the  original  in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery.  London. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


107 


"  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  Allston  cherished  similar  and 
responsive  feelings  toward  Coleridge ;  and  how  well  he  had  read 
the  character  of  his  admired  friend  may  be  best  inferred  from  his 
masterly  portrait  of  Coleridge;  so  only  could  one  who  knew, 
and  therefore  esteemed,  the  man  have  portrayed  him — with  the 
delicate  feeling  of  his  feminine  gentleness  combined  with  mascu- 
line thought",  with  the  perception  of  the  depth  and  inwardness  of 
his  imaginative  meditation — it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  it  em- 
bodies, as  far  as  can  be  presented  to  the  sense,  the  character  of 
the  poet  as  '  the  philosopher  with  the  seraph's  wing.'  " 

Allston's  intimacy  with  Coleridge  was  so  close  as  to  touch 
his  entire  nature,  acquainting  him  with  the  inner  depths  of 
his  character.  Their  mental  endowments  were  kindred.  The 
artist  understood  his  subject  as  did  no  other  artist  of  his  time. 
Hence,  though  frequently  painted  by  others,  Wordsworth  said  of 
Allston's  portrait,  "It  is  the  only  likeness  that  ever  gave  me  any 
pleasure  ;  it  is  incomparably  the  finest  of  the  likenesses  taken  of 
Coleridge."  Nothing  can  add  to  such  testimony  from  one  who 
was  Coleridge's  most  intimate  friend,  and  it  is  a  satisfaction  to 
know  that  this  portrait  is  now  to  be  seen  in  a  permanent  exhibi- 
tion of  the  portraits  of  distinguished  Englishmen.  There  the 
American  can  point  with  pride  to  a  work  by  one  of  his  own 
countrymen  unsurpassed  by  modern  art  in  the  higher  qualities 
of  portraiture. 

There  are  but  few  subjects  for  portraits  that  are  utterly  void 
of  interest  to  the  eye  of  an  artist.  But  there  are  fewer  still  suf- 
ficiently beautiful  or  picturesque  to  make,  without  an  effort  of 
imagination  in  arrangement  and  treatment,  a  pleasing  and  beauti- 
ful picture.  Therefore  the  majority  of  subjects  must  be  rendered 
by  a  powerful  imagination  and  consummate  skill,  to  produce  a 
pleasing  effect,  without  loss  of  likeness.  There  are  charming 
portraits — portraits  which  never  lose  their  interest  for  us,  por- 
traits of  which  we  never  tire — portraits  which,  like  the  varying 


108 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


aspects  of  nature,  always  repay  contemplation  with  a  new  pleas- 
ure, yet  these  are  in  many  instances  portraits  whose  originals 
would  be  passed  by  as  unattractive  and  void  of  special  inter- 
est. But  this  cannot  be  said  of  the  portrait  of  Coleridge  by 
Allston.  In  that  instance  the  subject  was  as  inspiring  as  the 
portrait  is  satisfactory  and  pleasing.  "  The  ground-swell  of  his 
ever-working  intellect  "  is  felt  in  the  far-off  look  of  his  full  gray 
eye,  and  a  sense  of  thought-movement  in  every  line  of  his  noble 
face.  As  a  whole  it  is  pre-eminently  a  portrait  of  which  one 
never  tires.  Intellect  is  the  vitalizing  power  of  beauty,  and  with- 
out it  forms,  though  faultless,  are  not,  in  the  highest  sense,  beau- 
tiful.   Allston,  it  may  be  said,  painted  the  intellect  of  Coleridge. 

The  portrait  of  Dr.  King,  Allston  mentions  as  having  been 
painted  at  the  same  time  with  that  of  Coleridge ;  he  classes 
them  together  in  point  of  merit,  giving  no  special  preference  to 
either,  yet  one  is  comparatively  unknown,  while  the  other  is  con- 
spicuously historic  and  prominent  among  the  most  famous  por- 
traits of  England's  gifted  men. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


MRS.  ALLSTON'S  DEATH. — HER  FUNERAL. — THE  CAVERN  SCENE  FROM 
"GIL  BLAS." — ALLSTON'S  CHARITY. — LETTER  FROM  HIS  CLASS- 
MATE, jarvis. —  Coleridge's  letter  of  condolence. — his 

VIEWS  ON  THE  WAR  BETWEEN  ENGLAND  AND  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

After  their  sojourn  in  Bristol,  Allston  and  his  wife  returned 
to  London,  renewed  in  health,  full  of  hope,  and  confident  of  suc- 
cess. They  rented  a  house  and  began  their  first  experience  in 
housekeeping.  This  important  stage  in  the  progress  of  life,  to 
one  of  Allston's  sensibilities,  must  have  brought  happiness 
peculiar  in  degree.  The  basis  of  his  pleasure  was  broad  and  all- 
satisfying.  The  adjustments  of  character  welding  the  young 
couple  in  bonds  of  sentiment  were  perfected.  Allston's  was  an 
ideal  marriage.  The  benediction  of  contentment  was  in  his 
household,  because  love  in  its  fulness  was  there ;  love  lightening 
all  burdens,  heightening  all  pleasures.  If,  in  the  great  world 
without,  trials  and  disappointment  weighed  upon  his  spirit,  he 
could  take  them  to  the  sanctuary  of  his  home  with  confidence  of 
relief  in  sympathy  and  encouragement.  Many  things  conspired 
to  make  auspicious  his  present  outlook.  Patronage  assured, 
fame  rapidly  increasing — the  future  was  tinted  with  a  thousand 
hues  to  gratify,  to  cheer,  and  stimulate.  But  alas  for  the 
mutability  of  human  conditions !  Hardly  had  the  young  hus- 
band and  wife  taken  possession  of  their  new  home  when  death 
entered.  Within  a  week  the  gentle,  loving,  and  loved  wife  sick- 
ened and  died.  The  shock  was  bewildering,  almost  stupefying  ; 
but  when  gradually  the  greatness  of  his  bereavement  appeared, 


110 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


it  seemed  immeasurable  and  overwhelming.  From  the  greatness 
of  the  cause  some  have  assumed  what  might  be  regarded  as  its 
natural  effect,  and  have  reported  that  Allston  was  rendered  in- 
sane by  the  death  of  his  wife.  The  report,  however,  wras  untrue, 
as  an  extract  from  a  letter  by  Leslie,  which  we  here  quote,  affirms : 

"  A  biographical  sketch  of  Allston,  by  Mrs.  Jameson,  has  ap- 
peared in  the  Athenceum,  in  which  she  repeats  (on  the  au- 
thority of  Dunlap)  that  1  a  temporary  derangement  of  the  intel- 
lect '  was  caused  by  the  death  of  his  wife.  This  is  not  true,  as 
Mr.  Morse  can  assure  you.  He  and  I  were  with  Allston  con- 
stantly at  that  time,  and  sudden  as  was  the  blow,  and  deeply  as 
he  felt  it,  there  was  nothing  in  his  manner  that  for  a  moment 
showed  him  to  have  lost  the  mastery  of  his  mind." 

The  funeral  of  Mrs.  Allston  was  deeply  impressive  in  its  sim- 
plicity. Morse,  Leslie,  John  Howard  Payne,  and  Allston  were 
the  only  persons  present,  and  were  the  only  persons  who  followed 
the  coffin  to  the  grave.  As  in  thought  we  picture  that  scantily 
attended  burial,  we  are  impressed  with  a  feeling  of  great  solem- 
nity. They  were  Americans,  associated  by  patriotism  and  kin- 
dred tastes ;  Morse  and  Leslie,  pupils  of  the  chief  mourner ;  John 
Howard  Payne,  author  of  that  lyric  which  has  thrilled  so  many 
hearts  with  the  echo  of  a  universal  sentiment  for  the  sweet 
ministries  of  home,  they  were  mourners  all,  touched  with  pro- 
foundest  sympathy  and  solicitude  for  their  friend,  the  heart- 
broken husband,  as  he  stood  by  the  grave  and  gazed  upon  the 
coffin  and  heard  the  hollow  sound  marking  the  solemn  words, 
"  Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust."  Allston's  friends 
felt  that  it  was  not  good  for  him  to  be  alone  in  his  grief -stricken 
house.  Morse  and  Leslie  persuaded  him  to  leave  it  and  take  up 
his  lodgings  with  them.  Their  proposal  was  the  dictate  of  a  wise 
and  true  friendship.  Gradually  old  associations  and  pleasant 
companionship  dispelled  paralyzing  grief,  and  led  him  from  his 
overshadowing  sorrow  into  comparative  cheerfulness. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


111 


Allston's  love  for  art  was  his  great  solace.  As  an  angel  of  con- 
solation it  ministered  unto  him  by  alluring  visions ;  it  led  him 
away  from  himself ;  it  allowed  him  but  little  time  or  thought  for 
musing  upon  his  bereavement  and  estimating  its  greatness.  He 
yielded  to  its  blessed  influence  and  was  comforted.  He  realized 
how  great  a  boon  in  affliction  is  agreeable  and  absorbing  occupa- 
tion. The  first  picture  painted  by  him  after  the  loss  of  his  wife 
was  the  "  Cavern  Scene  from  Gil  Bias."  Many  years  after,  when 
the  exhibition  of  his  pictures  took  place  at  Boston,  his  nephew, 
George  Flagg,  expressed  admiration  for  this  picture,  as  the  one 
he  preferred  to  any  other  in  the  collection,  to  which  Allston  re- 
marked that  it  was  painted  while  he  was  in  deep  affliction,  and 
constantly  in  tears.  His  nephew  said,  "  I  do  not  understand  how 
it  is  possible  to  paint  under  such  circumstances."  "  Ah,  George," 
he  said,  "  nothing  can  prevent  my  painting  but  want  of  money  ; 
that  paralyzes  me." 

We  cannot  restrain  regret  that  there  was  mingled  so  little  of 
worldly  wisdom  in  Allston's  character.  His  generosity  made  him 
improvident  to  a  degree  that  entailed  pecuniary  embarrassment 
in  his  later  years.    In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Dana,  Leslie  writes : 

"  I  do  not  remember  any  circumstance  during  Allston's  resi- 
dence in  England  that  would  lead  me  to  think  he  was  ever  in 
distress  for  money,  though  it  was  evident  he  felt  it  necessary  to 
live  with  the  strictest  economy.  But  there  was  one  branch  of 
economy  he  could  not  practise,  and  that  was  economy  in  charities. 
The  streets  of  London  were  then  more  filled  than  they  are  now 
with  objects  of  real  and  fictitious  suffering,  and  he  could  not  re- 
sist giving  to  every  beggar  he  met  far  more  largely  than  any  man 
I  ever  knew,  whose  means  were  so  limited.  It  was  vain  to  tell 
him  how  often  he  was  imposed  upon  by  appearances.  His  answer 
was,  '  It  is  better  I  should  be  imposed  on  than  to  miss  doing 
what  I  can  for  one  real  sufferer.'  One  winter  day  he  brought  a 
wretched-looking  woman  home  with  him  ;  she  was  barefooted, 


112 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


and  had  nothing  on  but  a  ragged  shift  and  petticoat.  Allston 
clothed  her  warmly  from  the  wardrobe  of  his  wife,  saying  he  was 
sure,  could  she  look  upon  what  he  was  doing  from  her  abode  in 
Heaven,  she  would  smile  on  him.  The  next  day  I  saw  this 
woman  in  the  street  as  ill-clad  as  when  she  excited  his  pity. 
Allston  became  well  known  to  the  beggars,  and  was  persecuted 
by  letters  and  other  applications  from  impostors  to  a  degree  that 
made  him  miserable ;  and  indeed  his  plagues  of  this  kind  so  in- 
creased that  I  really  think  they  had  something  to  do  in  hasten- 
ing his  departure  to  America." 

Allston's  classmate,  Jarvis,  in  a  letter,  part  of  which  forms  one 
of  our  early  chapters,  thus  writes  in  reference  to  his  bereave- 
ment : 

"  When  I  saw  him  again  he  was  a  widower,  and  I  have  never 
witnessed  more  simple,  touching,  and  heartfelt  sorrow.  It  was 
in  his  countenance,  in  every  motion,  and  in  every  tone  of  his 
voice.  "Without  any  of  the  outpourings  of  grief,  he  appeared  to 
be  heart-broken.  It  was  the  mourning  of  Allston  which  could 
not  be  understood  or  appreciated  by  the  herd,  any  more  than 
they  can  understand  or  appreciate  what  gives  the  greatest  value 
to  his  pictures.  He  repeated  to  me  at  this  time  some  beautiful 
lines,  which  evidently  had  originated  in  the  melancholy  scenes 
through  which  he  had  passed.  This  recollection,  combined  with 
the  sadness  of  the  lines  and  the  touching  manner  of  his  recita- 
tion, almost  affected  me  to  tears.  He  never  made  to  me  any 
more  direct  or  any  other  allusion  to  the  loss  which  he  had  sus- 
tained, nor  was  it  necessary ;  we  saw  and  felt  that  each  under- 
stood the  feelings  of  the  other. 

"  An  abiding  effect  of  this  loss  upon  our  friend  was  to  turn 
his  thoughts,  affections,  and  desires  toward  another  world,  in  a 
greater  degree  than  before.  This  is  the  true,  and  certainly  the 
more  rational  and  natural,  explanation  of  his  increased  piety.  I 
say  increased,  because  a  mind  like  his  could  never  have  been 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


113 


without  feelings  of  reliance  upon,  and  gratitude  toward,  his 
Creator,  and  because  I  never  had,  from  my  earliest  acquaintance 
with  him,  the  least  reason  to  doubt  his  correctness  in  this  par- 
ticular. 

"  I  am  induced  to  make  these  observations  from  having  had 
my  attention  called  to  an  anecdote  by  some  scribbler  of  the 
Atlas,  in  which  Allston  is  represented  as  having  been  irrelig- 
ious at  one  period  of  his  life,  and  as  a  man  who  would  enjoy  a 
joke  at  the  expense  of  religious  subjects,  and  who  was  brought 
into  a  religious  life  by  an  almost  miraculous  interposition,  which 
saved  him  from  starving. 

"  I  recollect  seeing  in  some  autobiographical  sketch  of  the  life 
of  an  English  fanatic  of  the  beginning  of  this  century,  that  he 
found  a  new  pair  of  breeches  by  his  bedside  when  his  old  ones 
were  in  a  woful  plight,  and  regarded  it  as  a  direct  interference 
of  Providence.  This  might  answer  very  well  for  an  inspired  or 
rather  a  crack-brained  cobbler,  but  would  not  agree  either  with 
the  composition  of  the  head  or  heart  of  our  friend.  He  had  too 
much  humility  and  too  much  good  sense  to  convert  an  ordinary 
transaction  of  life  into  a  special  interposition  of  Providence  in 
his  behalf,  even  if  it  were  true  that  he  had  ever  been  in  such 
circumstances  of  pecuniary  destitution,  which  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  doubt. 

"  Allston  never  sat  in  the  seat  of  the  scorner,  and  had  always 
too  much  good  feeling  and  too  much  good  taste  ever  to  have 
joined  in  an  atheistic  laugh.  I  would  not  have  you  suppose 
that  he  was  what  might  be  called  a  serious  young  man,  for  I 
have  no  reason  to  think  that  the  subject  of  religion  had  occupied 
much  of  his  thoughts ;  but  I  am  entitled  to  deny,  from  a  most 
intimate  acquaintance  with  him,  that  he  was  himself  a  scoffer  or 
an  encourager  of  scoffing  in  others.  The  peculiar  cast  of  his  re- 
ligious sentiment,  I  have  no  doubt,  might  be  traced  to  his  inti- 
macy with  Coleridge ;  but  this  is  mere  conjecture,  for,  as  our 
8 


114 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


views  of  religion  were  not  the  same,  we  avoided  that,  as  we  did 
all  other  topics  of  conversation  on  which  we  knew  we  could  not 
agree." 

When  news  of  Mrs.  Allston's  death  was  received  by  his 
friends  out  of  London,  letters  of  condolence  attesting  deep  con- 
cern and  friendship  were  written  by  them.  Among  these  we 
cite  one  from  Coleridge.  It  should  be  remembered  that  this 
letter  was  written  at  a  time  when  views  so  large  and  generous 
toward  America  were  seldom  entertained  by  Englishmen.  It 
was  at  a  time  when  a  sense  of  mortification  at  our  naval  vic- 
tories was  rankling  in  the  English  mind.  Extreme  bitterness 
toward  America  was  the  rule,  when  the  heart  and  intellect  of 
Coleridge,  which  dictated  this  letter,  were  the  exception : 

"October  25,  1815. 

"  My  Deae  Allston  :  I  could  have  wished  to  have  learned 
more  particulars  from  you  respecting  yourself.  I  have  perhaps 
felt  too  great  an  awe  for  the  sacredness  of  grief,  but  those  of  our 
household  know  with  how  deep  and  recurrent  a  sympathy  I  have 
followed  you,  and  I  know  what  consolation  it  has  been  to  me  that 
you  have  in  every  sense  the  consolation  and  the  undoubting 
hopes  of  a  Christian.  Blessed  indeed  is  that  gift  from  above,  the 
characteristic  operation  of  which  is  to  transmute  the  profoundest 
sources  of  our  sorrow  into  the  most  inexhaustible  sources  of  our 
comfort.  The  very  virtues  that  enforce  the  tear  of  earthly  regret 
fill  that  tear  with  a  light  not  earthly.  There  is  a  capaciousness 
in  every  living  heart  which  retains  an  aching  vacuum,  what  and 
howsoever  numerous  its  present  freight  of  earthly  blessings  may 
be ;  and  as  God  only  can  fill  it,  so  must  it  needs  be  a  sweet  and 
gracious  incarnation  of  the  heavenly  ;  that  what  we  deeply  loved, 
but  with  fear  and  trembling,  we  must  now  love  with  a  love  of 
faith  that  excludeth  fear.    Love  is  in  God,  and  God  in  it. 

"  From  such  thoughts  none  but  an  abrupt  transition  is  possi- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


115 


ble.  I  pass,  therefore,  at  once,  by  an  effort,  to  the  sphere  in 
which  you  are  appointed,  because  highly  gifted,  to  act ;  and  in 
this  I  can  but  pour  forth  two  earnest  wishes.  First,  that  equal 
to  the  best  in  composition,  and  I  most  firmly  believe  superior  in 
the  charm  of  coloring,  you  would  commend  your  genius  to  the 
universally  intelligible  of  your  irwyrfK.cocro-'qs  Tkyy^ — Expression. 
Second,  that  you  never  for  any  length  of  time  absent  yourself 
from  nature  and  the  communion  with  nature,  for  to  you  alone  of 
all  contemporary  artists  does  it  seem  to  have  been  given  to  know 
what  nature  is — not  the  dead  shapes,  the  outward  letter,  but  the 
life  of  nature  revealing  itself  in  the  phenomenon,  or  rather  at- 
tempting to  reveal  itself.  Now  the  power  of  producing  the  true 
ideals  is  no  other,  in  my  belief,  than  to  learn  the  will  from  the 
deed,  and  then  to  take  the  will  for  the  deed.  The  great  artist 
does  what  nature  would  do,  if  only  the  disturbing  forces  were 
abstracted. 

"  With  regard  to  my  MSS.  I  had  no  other  wish,  and  formed 
no  higher  expectation  than  this  :  that  a  copyright,  as  exclusive  as 
the  American  law  permits,  should  be  vested  in  some  one  book- 
seller who  should  have  the  copy  in  time  enough  to  get  it  printed 
in  America  two  months  before  the  work  could  arrive  from  Eng- 
land ;  that  is  to  say,  have  it  published  in  Boston  or  Philadelphia 
at  the  same  time  of  its  first  publication  in  England,  and  that  the 
bookseller,  in  return  for  the  copy  and  copyright,  should  secure 
to  me  some  portion,  say  one-third,  of  his  net  profits.  If  this  can 
be  done,  I  shall  think  it  worth  while  to  continue  the  transcrip- 
tion, though  the  ultimate  profits  should  be  but  from  £20  to  £0 
0s.  Od.  One  volume  of  900  pages  octavo  contains  the  history  of 
my  life  and  opinions ;  the  second  my  poems,  composed  since 
1795,  i.e.,  those  not  in  my  volume  of  '  Poems '  already  printed. 

"  In  the  '  Ode  on  the  Death  of  General  Boss,'  if  I  ever  finish 
it,  I  shall  utter  a  voice  of  lamentation  on  the  moral  war  between 
the  child  and  the  parent  country,  a  war  laden  with  curses  for  un- 


116 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


born  generations  in  both  countries.  You  may  well  believe, 
therefore,  that  I  shall  not  make  myself  an  accomplice  directly  or 
indirectly,  by  flattery  or  by  abuse,  in  what  I  regard  as  a  crime  of 
no  ordinary  guilt,  the  feeding  or  palliating  the  vindictive  antipa- 
thy of  the  one  party,  or  the  senseless,  groundless,  wicked  con- 
tempt and  insolence  of  the  other.  Even  now  it  would  not  be  too 
late,  if  the  spirit  of  philosophy  could  be  called  down  on  minis- 
ters and  governments.  The  true  policy  is  palpable  and  simple. 
A  child,  wearied  out  by  undue  exercise  of  parental  authority, 
elopes,  marries  with  an  independent  fortune,  and  sets  up  for 
himself.  The  matter  is  irrevocable ;  a  reconciliation  takes  place, 
and  the  parent  himself  is  convinced  that  he  had  acted  tyran- 
nically and  under  false  notions  of  the  extent  of  his  authority,  and 
that  in  the  same  proportion  his  child  had  acted  justifiably. 
What,  then,  would  a  good  parent  do  ?  Evidently  treat  the  child 
with  the  kindness  of  a  parent,  but  with  additional  respect  and 
etiquette,  as  now  a  householder  and  himself  the  master  of  a 
family ;  and  this  he  will  show  in  the  character  of  his  messengers, 
in  the  style  of  his  letters,  etc.  But  if,  in  addition  to  the  duties 
of  family  love,  their  two  trades  or  estates  played  into  each  other's 
hands,  so  that  they  could  not  really  prosper  without  increasing 
their  dealings  with  each  other  (suppose  the  father  a  shoemaker 
finisher  and  the  son  a  tanner-currier),  then  common  self-love 
would  dictate  the  abandonment  of  every  act  and  impulse  of 
jealousy.  Were  I  Dictator,  I  would  not  only  send  to  America 
men  of  the  highest  rank  and  talent,  with  more  than  usual  splen- 
dor, as  ambassadors,  ministers,  etc.,  but  would  throw  open  not 
only  the  West  Indies,  but  the  whole  colonial  trade  to  the  Ameri- 
cans, confident  that  every  new  city  that  would  thence  arise  in  the 
United  States  would  add  a  new  street  to  some  town  in  Great 
Britain.  Alas!  that  the  dictates  of  wisdom  should  be  but 
dreams  of  benevolence,  to  be  interpreted  by  contraries.  The 
malignant  witchcraft  of  evil  passions  reads  good  men's  prayers 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


117 


backward,  and  I  cannot  help  dreading  that  the  hot  heads  of  both 
countries  will  go  on  to  make  folly  beget  folly,  both  the  more 
wrong  in  proportion  as  each  is  right.  How  little,  then,  ought 
we  to  value  wealth  and  power,  seeing  that  every  nation  carries 
its  only  formidable  enemy  in  its  bosom  ;  and  the  vices  that  make 
its  enemies  elsewhere  are  but  the  systole  to  its  diastole. 

"  I  have  received  a  most  flattering  letter  from  Lord  Byron. 
Should  my  tragedy  be  accepted  (of  which  I  have  little  doubt),  I 
shall,  God  willing,  see  you  about  Christmas.  Meantime  may 
God  bless  you  and  let  me  hear  from  you  soon. 

"S.  T.  Coleridge. 

"  P.  S. — Friday  last  (20th)  my  forty-fourth  birthday ;  and  in 
all  but  the  brain  I  am  an  old  man !  Such  ravages  do  anxiety 
and  mismanagement  make." 


CHAPTEE  XII. 


SALE  OF  "  THE  DEAD  MAN  EEVIVED  "  TO  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  ACAD- 
EMY OF  FINE  ARTS. — ALLSTON's  AFFECTION  FOR  ENGLAND. — LET- 
TER EXPLAINING  ALLSTON'S  REASON  FOR  DECLINING  TO  PAINT 
A  PICTURE  FROM  HIS  SKETCH  OF  "CHRIST  HEALING." — "  THE 
CAVERN  SCENE  "  PURCHASED  IMMEDIATELY. 

When  news  of  the  success  of  Allston's  picture,  "  The  Dead 
Man  Kevived,"  reached  Philadelphia,  his  friends  in  that  city  de- 
sired to  secure  it  for  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts. 
Messrs.  Sully  and  McMurtrie  succeeded  in  raising  $3,500  (a 
large  sum  for  a  picture  in  those  days)  with  which  they  pur- 
chased it.  This  evidence  of  his  fame  at  home  added  a  gratifi- 
cation to  the  pleasure  he  had  already  received  from  public 
acknowledgment.  The  kindness  and  generous  appreciation  he 
had  met  in  England  endeared  to  him  the  mother  country.  He 
loved  to  acknowledge  the  ties  of  blood  existing,  despite  political 
severance  and  national  independence. 

"Next  to  my  own,"  he  writes,  "I  love  England,  the  land  of 
my  adoption.  I  should,  indeed,  be  ungrateful  did  I  not  love 
a  country  from  which  I  never  received  other  than  kindness ; 
in  which,  even  during  the  late  war,  I  was  never  made  to  feel  that 
I  was  a  foreigner." 

The  purchase  of  his  picture  by  the  Pennsylvania  Acad- 
emy seemed  to  impart  new  life  to  his  patriotism.  If,  in  the 
heyday  of  success  in  the  world's  metropolis,  he  was  in  danger  of 
virtual  expatriation,  the  evidence  of  interest  and  appreciation 
shown  by  his  countrymen  in  thus  securing  his  picture  dispelled 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


119 


that  danger.  It  doubtless  added  greatly  to  the  influences  which 
brought  him  back  to  a  residence  in  America  at  a  sacrifice  that  we 
cannot  but  regret. 

His  gratitude  and  appreciation  of  the  kindness  of  his  friends 
he  expresses  at  length  in  a  letter  to  McMurtrie,  dated  June  13, 
1816,  from  which  we  give  an  extract : 

"  When  you  first  made  me  the  generous  offer  of  taking  out  my 
picture,  you  may  remember  with  what  implicit  confidence  I  sub- 
mitted the  entire  management  and  disposal  of  it  to  yourself  and 
Mr.  Sully.  I  would  not  have  done  this  if  I  had  not  been  fully 
assured  that,  whatever  might  be  the  event,  I  should  have  every 
reason  to  be  grateful ;  for,  even  if  it  had  wholly  failed  of  profit,  I 
should  still  have  felt  myself  indebted  for  every  exertion  that 
kindness  and  liberality  could  make.  If  such  would  have  been 
my  feelings  in  the  event  of  a  total  failure,  you  may  well  judge 
what  I  now  feel  at  the  account  of  this  most  agreeable  result. 
I  beg  you  both  to  accept  my  warmest  and  most  grateful 
acknowledgments.  The  sale  is  in  every  respect  highly  gratify- 
ing, both  as  affording  me  a  very  seasonable  supply,  and  on  ac- 
count of  the  flattering  circumstance  attending  it.  I  assure 
you  I  think  most  of  the  honor  conferred  by  the  Academy  in  be- 
coming the  purchasers  of  my  work.  Will  you  express  to  them 
my  sense  of  the  honor  done  me. 

"If  I  am  constrained  from  various  circumstances  to  disap- 
point you  as  to  the  proposal  respecting  a  picture  from  my  sketch 
of  1  Christ  Healing,'  I  trust  you  will  believe  me  as  sensible  of 
your  kindness  in  making  it,  as  if  it  had  been  in  my  power  to 
comply  with  it.  Upon  reconsidering  the  sketch  some  months 
since  (though  still  pleased  with  the  general  arrangement),  I 
found  the  principal  incident  so  faulty  and  inefficient,  and  my- 
self, at  the  same  time  unable  to  suggest  any  one  better,  that  I 
was  forced  to  come  to  the  resolution  of  relinquishing  it  alto- 


120 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


gether ;  or,  at  least,  to  lay  it  by  for  some  future  and  more  pro- 
pitious period,  in  the  hope  that  my  imagination  might  then  sup- 
ply a  more  suitable  incident.  I  may  here  observe  that  the  uni- 
versal failure  of  all  painters,  ancient  and  modern,  in  their 
attempts  to  give  even  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  Saviour,  has  now 
determined  me  never  to  attempt  it.  Besides,  I  think  His  char- 
acter too  holy  and  sacred  to  be  attempted  by  the  pencil. 

"  It  is  the  first  importance  to  a  large  work  that  the  principal 
incident  should  be  obvious  and  striking,  leaving  no  doubt  in  any- 
one of  its  meaning.  Now,  in  the  incident  I  allude  to,  I  have  at- 
tempted to  express  the  miracle  of  restored  health  to  a  sick  man, 
and  that  I  have  failed  of  this  is  certain,  because  no  one  who  has 
seen  it  (and  I  have  shown  it  to  several)  has  been  able  to  guess  my 
intentions.  I  could  easily  express  disease  in  any  stage  of  languor 
or  emaciation,  but  there  would  then  be  no  incident — merely  a 
sick  man  waiting  to  be  healed — which  is  but  repeating  what  Mr. 
West  has  already  so  admirably  done.  My  object  was  not  to  treat 
the  subject  thus,  but  in  a  different  way — that  is,  to  show  both 
the  operation  and  the  effect  of  a  miracle.  The  blind  boy,  or, 
rather,  the  boy  that  was  blind  (which  you  may  recollect  in  the 
sketch)  is,  I  think,  a  very  happy  incident ;  for  the  miracle  there 
is  obvious,  and  clearly  explains  itself ;  but  as  it  is  a  miracle  which 
has  already  been  wrought  it  becomes  necessarily  subordinate. 

"  Had  I  been  equally  successful  in  the  principal  object,  who 
is  supposed  to  be  under  the  immediate  influence  of  the  Saviour's 
word,  I  should  not  only  be  satisfied,  but  have  reason  to  think  I  had 
achieved  something  great.  I  still  like  all  the  rest  of  the  sketch ; 
but  this  great  and  radical  defect  in  it  has  compelled  me  to  give  it 
up.  But  were  I  even  perfectly  satisfied  with  it,  I  am  afraid  it 
would  not  be  in  my  power  to  paint  it  on  a  large  scale  for  less  than 
eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  guineas,  without  a  loss,  as  it  would 
employ  me  full  eighteen  months  or  two  years,  and  in  addition  to 
my  present  expenses  I  should  be  obliged  to  hire  a  large  room." 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


121 


"  But,  though  it  is  not  in  my  power,  for  the  reasons  I  have 
above  stated,  to  engage  in  a  large  picture  from  this  sketch,  I 
should  be  most  happy  to  undertake  another  subject  of  five  or  six 
figures,  size  of  life,  which  would  make  a  picture  about  the  size  of 
*  St.  Peter  in  Prison,'  and  this  I  could  do  for  the  sum  you  men- 
tioned, say  five  hundred  guineas.  (By  the  bye,  the  '  St.  Peter  ' 
employed  me  more  than  six  months  after  you  left  London,  in- 
stead of  two,  as  I  had  calculated.)  Such  a  picture  I  could 
paint  in  my  present  room,  and  could  finish,  I  should  hope,  in 
somewhat  less  than  a  year.  Should  this  be  agreeable  to  you, 
you  will  say  what  kind  of  a  subject  you  would  prefer ;  I  think 
Scripture  subjects,  as  being  the  most  known  and  interesting  to 
the  world,  are  the  best.  Perhaps  some  splendid  subject,  uniting 
brilliancy  of  color  with  strong  character  and  expression.  Should 
the  preceding  meet  your  views,  you  have  every  reason  to  depend 
on  my  best  efforts. 

"  Whenever  you  send  the  portfolio  of  drawings,  I  will,  with 
pleasure,  attend  to  your  request  respecting  them.  Mr.  West, 
who  is,  I  believe,  one  of  the  most  learned  in  Europe  in  these 
things,  will  be  happy,  I  am  sure,  to  assist  me  in  assigning  to 
them  the  names  of  their  proper  authors.  Since  you  thus  en- 
courage me  with  the  hope  of  selling  the  landscape,  I  will  send  it 
out  in  the  course  of  the  summer.  I  think  I  gave  you  a  memo- 
randum of  the  price.  I  do  not  recollect  whether  it  was  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  or  two  hundred  guineas.  If  it  is  worth  anything, 
it  is  worth  two,  having  cost  me  four  months'  hard  labor.  How- 
ever, I  should  be  content  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  guineas, 
provided  I  get  that  sum  without  loss  by  exchange. 

11  At  the  same  time  I  shall  send  the  picture  of  '  The  Virgin 
and  Child,'  which,  as  I  know  it  to  be  a  great  favorite  with  you,  I 
beg  you  to  accept  as  a  small  testimony  of  my  esteem.  I  have 
lately  improved  it  very  much,  having  repainted  the  mother's  head 
and  the  whole  of  the  infant,  as  well  as  retouched  the  background. 


122 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


"  I  have  sold  the  'Gil  Bias'  to  our  countryman,  Colonel  Dray- 
ton. A  nobleman  wished  to  have  bought  it,  but  he  was  too  late. 
Before  you  get  this,  it  will  have  arrived,  I  suppose,  in  Philadel- 
phia, having  been  sent  there  to  the  care  of  Mr.  John  Yaughan. 
I  have  retouched  it  since  you  saw  it  here. 

"I  do  not  remember  whether  Mr.  Leslie  had  begun  his 
'  Murder  of  Butland  by  Clifford,'  before  you  left  London.  It  is 
now  in  the  Exhibition  at  Somerset  House,  and  does  him  great 
honor.  It  is  very  finely  conceived,  and  painted  with  a  powerful 
hand.  The  figure  of  Butland  alone  is  sufficient  to  confirm  his 
just  pretensions  to  genius,  a  word  too  often  misapplied.  He 
possesses  the  rare  merit  of  combining  the  excess  of  imploring 
terror  with  uncommon  beauty.  Clifford  is  also  a  fine  though 
opposite  character,  and  the  background  is  managed  with  great 
spirit. 

"  Mr.  West  has  begun,  on  a  grand  scale,  the  subject  of  '  Death 
on  the  Pale  Horse.'  You  must  remember  well  his  admirable 
sketch. 

"  Begging  you  once  again  to  accept  my  best  thanks,  I  remain, 
dear  sir,  with  great  esteem, 

4 'Yours  sincerely  and  obliged, 

"W.  Allston." 

"  P.S. — In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Leslie,  Mr.  Delaplaine,  has  done 
me  the  honor  to  inquire  my  terms  for  a  large  picture,  fifteen 
feet,  figures  size  of  life.  I  have  requested  Mr.  Leslie  to  reply 
that  I  could  not  undertake  it  without  loss,  for  less  than  a  thou- 
sand guineas,  which  I  fear  will  be  a  disappointment  to  him." 

When  the  "  Cavern  Scene  "  was  finished,  Allston  exhibited  it 
in  a  collection  in  Pall  Mall.  There  it  attracted  the  attention 
and  admiration  of  Colonel  William  Drayton,  of  Philadelphia,  an 
old  friend,  who  had  known  him  in  Charleston,  just  after  his 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


123 


graduation.  So  pleased  was  the  Colonel  with  the  picture  that 
he  purchased  it  at  once,  without  knowing  by  whom  it  was 
painted.    Colonel  Drayton  thus  relates  the  incident : 

"  Allston  wrote  me  only  a  single  letter  on  the  subject  of  '  Gil 
Bias,'  with  the  beauty  of  which  I  was  so  much  struck,  whilst  ex- 
amining the  picture  gallery  in  Pall  Mall,  that  I  immediately  pur- 
chased it,  and  was  exceedingly  gratified  afterward  to  learn  the 
name  of  the  artist,  of  which  I  had  been  previously  ignorant,  its 
insertion  in  one  of  the  corners  of  the  piece  having  escaped  my 
notice." 

The  "  Cavern  Scene  "  was  by  many  considered  one  of  the 
best  in  the  large  collection  of  Allston's  pictures  exhibited  in 
Boston.  In  speaking  of  this  picture  he  remarked  to  a  friend 
that  no  part  of  it  was  painted  directly  from  nature.  This  is 
another  instance  and  evidence  of  the  remarkable  accuracy  and 
memory  of  his  eye. 

One  day  Hazlitt,  the  author,  who  wrote  so  pleasingly  on 
art,  and  was  the  most  prominent  art-critic  of  his  time,  asked 
Allston  where  he  found  models  for  his  heads,  as  he  had  never 
seen  any  like  them  in  the  streets  of  London,  remarking  that 
some  of  them  looked  like  Asiatics.  Allston  said  he  did  not 
paint  them  from  models,  but  from  his  imagination.  Hazlitt 
gave  him  a  look  of  incredulity,  which  seemed  to  say,  as  inter- 
preted by  Allston  himself,  "You  are  the  greatest  liar  I  ever 
met." 

The  following  is  another  letter  to  his  friend  McMurtrie,  for 
whose  persistent  kindness  in  the  sale  of  his  pictures  in  America 
Allston  felt  under  great  obligations : 

"London,  October  25,  1816. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  have  at  length  the  pleasure  to  inform  you 
that,  availing  myself  of  your  continued  kindness,  I  have  shipped 
and  addressed  to  you  the  two  pictures  mentioned  in  my  letter  to 
you  of  June  last,  viz.,  the  'Landscape'  and  the  'Mother  and 


124 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Child.'  I  wish  you  not  to  consider  it  now  as  the  '  Virgin  and 
Child,'  but  simply  as  a  mother  watching  her  sleeping  offspring. 
A  '  Madonna '  should  be  youthful ;  but  my  mother  is  a  matron. 
Besides,  there  are  other  reasons,  which  I  have  not  room  to  state, 
that  would  fix  the  propriety  of  the  change  now  made  in  the  title. 
The  first,  the  '  Landscape,'  to  be  exhibited  and  disposed  of  in 
any  way  that  shall  seem  best  to  you.  Of  the  other  I  beg  your 
acceptance,  as  a  small  testimony  of  my  esteem  and  gratitude.  I 
have  a  double  pleasure  in  offering  this  little  present,  inasmuch 
as,  since  retouching,  I  think  it  one  of  my  best  works,  and  as  I 
know  it  will  be  possessed  by  one  who  can  truly  appreciate  what- 
ever merit  it  may  have.  It  does  not  always  happen  that  the 
possessors  of  pictures  are  also  possessed  of  taste ;  and  therefore 
it  is  a  source  of  no  small  gratification  to  an  artist  to  know  that 
his  works  are  cherished  by  those  who  will  neither  mistake  nor 
overlook  their  excellences,  however  few  or  subordinate. 

"  In  my  letter  of  June,  alluded  to  just  before,  I  had  fixed  the 
price  of  the  landscape  at  from  two  hundred  to  one  hundred  and 
fifty  guineas.  Upon  reconsidering  this  last  price,  I  think  it  so 
low  as  to  be  tantamount  to  a  complete  sacrifice ;  I  must,  there- 
fore, request  you  not  to  part  with  it  by  any  means  for  less  than 
two  hundred  guineas.  Though  I  am  very  much  in  want  of 
money,  I  should  prefer  keeping  it  all  my  life  to  disposing  of  it 
at  so  much  below  its  value.  But  I  commit  it  to  such  good  hands 
that  I  feel  perfectly  easy  as  to  the  event.    .    .  . 

"  Would  it  not  be  possible  to  obtain  an  exemption  from  the 
duties  by  means  of  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  ?  For  I  find  that 
all  pictures,  casts,  prints,  etc.,  intended  for  their  use,  are  now  free 
by  law.  I  think  the  duties  on  pictures  in  America  are  uncon- 
scionable. Here,  where  they  are  considered  very  severe,  the 
highest  duty  on  my  largest  picture  (even  of  30  feet)  never  ex- 
ceeds eight  pounds  sterling ;  for  after  four  feet  square  the  duty 
does  not  increase,  whatever  may  be  the  size. 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


125 


"  My  paper  will  not  admit  of  any  notice  of  the  present  world 
of  art  here.  Leslie's  picture  of  Clifford  is,  I  suppose,  arrived.  I 
think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  it  does  him  great  honor.  He 
desires  his  best  regards  to  you.  Pray  present  mine  to  Mr.  Sully, 
and  believe  me,  with  a  true  sense  of  your  kindness, 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"Washington  Allston." 


CHAPTEK  XIII. 


allston's  second  visit  to  paris,  with  leslie  and  collins. — 
gift  to  coleridge,  and  its  appreciation. — "  uriel  in  the 
sun"  takes  the  highest  prize  at  the  exhibition  of  the 
british  institute. —  leslie's  opinion  of  "elijah  in  the 
desert." — "Jacob's  dream." —  mrs.  Jameson's  description 
of  it. — lines  by  wordsworth. 

After  the  sale  of  his  picture,  "  The  Dead  Man  Kevived," 
Allston  was  induced  by  his  friends  Leslie  and  Collins  to  accom- 
pany them  to  Paris,  to  enjoy  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre.  Of 
this  visit  Collins  writes  : 

"  It  was  in  the  year  1817  that  I  accompanied  Allston  and 
Leslie  to  Paris,  where  we  benefited  much  by  having  Allston  for 
our  guide,  he  being  the  only  one  of  the  party  who  had  visited 
that  city  before ;  during  our  stay  of  about  six  weeks,  Allston 
made  a  beautiful  copy  in  the  Louvre  of  the  celebrated  '  Marriage 
at  Cana,'  by  Paul  Veronese,  and  as  Leslie  had  professional  em- 
ployment in  Paris  he  remained  there,  and  we  returned  together 
to  London ;  during  this  visit  I  had,  of  course,  the  best  oppor- 
tunities of  becoming  acquainted  with  my  friend's  real  character, 
which  in  every  new  view  I  took  of  it  became  more  satisfactory. 
The  sweetness  and  subdued  cheerfulness  of  his  temper  under  the 
various  little  inconveniences  of  our  journey  was  much  to  be  ad- 
mired, and  his  great  reverence  for  sacred  things,  and  the  entire 
purity  and  innocence  of  his  conversation,  coupled  as  it  was  with 
a  power  of  intellect  and  imagination  I  never  saw  surpassed. 
Blessed  be  God  for  these  qualities,  these  gifts  more  effectual  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


127 


the  pulling  down  of  many  strongholds  and  vain  imaginations  on 
my  part  —  how  then  can  I  be  too  grateful  to  Heaven  for  my 
acquaintance  with  one  to  whom  and  to  whose  example  I  owe  so 
much." 

The  copy  of  "  The  Marriage  in  Cana  of  Galilee,"  mentioned 
by  Collins,  was  thought  to  be  the  best  ever  made  of  that  greatest 
picture  of  Paul  Veronese  ;  that  marvellous  work  of  which  Stuart 
said,  "  Were  all  the  pictures  in  the  world  destroyed  this  alone 
would  be  sufficient  to  restore  art." 

Upon  this  occasion  he  probably  painted  the  picture,  of  which 
Leslie  says :  "  I  remember  an  exquisite  pasticcio  Allston  painted 
from  part  of  a  picture  by  Titian ;  the  subject  was  the  '  Adoration 
of  the  Magi,'  and  the  portion  of  the  picture  which  Allston  imi- 
tated rather  than  copied,  contained  a  white  horse,  most  beau- 
tifully colored.  He  afterward  gave  this  to  Coleridge,  and  the 
frequent  sight  of  it  continued  to  delight  me  many  years." 

Of  this  picture  Coleridge  wrote  : 

"  My  Dear  Allston  :  The  bearer  of  this  is  a  particular  friend 
of  mine,  a  German  gentleman,  of  excellent  good  taste  in  painting, 
and  himself  a  possessor  of  a  very  curious  collection  of  the  old 
Netherland  masters.  As  he  was  sitting  in  our  parlor  talking  with 
me,  he  kept  his  eye  fixed  on  your  picture,  and  at  last  he  said, 
*  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  you  have  a  valuable  picture  of  some 
Venetian  master.'  I  answered,  1  Titian,  do  you  think  ?  '  1  No,' 
said  he,  *  though  he  has  the  coloring  of  several  of  his  early 
works,  but  the  outline  is  too  soft  for  him.  He  was  crisp  to  a 
defect.    It  is  more  like  a  picture  of  Paul  Veronese.' 

"  He  could  scarcely  believe  me  when  I  told  him  it  was  yours, 
though  imitated  from  an  old  picture.  He  is  exceedingly  desirous 
to  see  '  Jacob's  Dream.'  You  will  find  him  a  man  worth  know- 
ing both  in  head  and  heart.    When  shall  we  see  you  ? 

"S.  T.  Coleridge." 


128 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


A  lady  who  had  great  knowledge  of  pictures,  and  had  lived 
and  painted  for  many  years  among  them,  wrote  Coleridge  from 
Florence  :  "  As  to  the  picture  you  possess  of  Allston's  painting, 
I  saw  the  original,  a  Titian.  His  copy,  if  such  it  could  be  called, 
is  decidedly  one  of  the  most  wonderful  I  ever  saw,  and  has 
all  the  spirit  and  feeling  of  originality,  and  the  only  picture 
that  could  be  said  truly  to  equal  Titian  in  color ;  in  fact,  Lau- 
rent, a  famous  picture-dealer,  who  came  here  from  abroad  and 
saw  it  at  your  home  at  Highgate,  would  not  believe  it  a  modern 
picture,  or  any  other's  than  Titian's." 

Coleridge  prized  this  picture  very  highly  and  bequeathed  it 
by  will  to  Mrs.  Gillman,  in  whose  family  he  was  a  beloved  guest 
for  many  years  before  his  death.    She  thus  describes  it : 

"  My  picture  consists  of  one  white  horse,  in  a  beautiful  posi- 
tion, bending  his  neck  gracefully,  and  licking  himself  just  above 
the  knee ;  its  countenance  is  so  pleasant — perhaps,  in  its  way, 
beautiful.  There  is  a  Greek,  I  believe,  standing,  his  face  toward 
you,  with  one  hand  on  the  saddle.  Also  a  second  horse,  of  which 
you  see  only  the  back  part — the  rider,  who  has  on  a  turban  and 
looks  like  a  Turk,  sitting  on  him  quite  at  ease.  There  are  other 
figures  in  the  foreground,  and  in  the  back  animals'  heads  are 
seen  under  an  open  shed,  with  a  sort  of  penthouse  top  ;  also  the 
figure  of  an  Indian." 

This  picture  was  the  probable  inspiration  of  a  letter  from 
Coleridge  to  a  lady  friend,  from  which  we  give  an  extract : 

"  I  will  take  care,  if  God  grant  me  life,  that  my  unlucky  dis- 
position shall  be  no  injury  to  Allston.  I  should  have  done 
more,  had  I  not  been  so  anxious  to  do  so  much.  I  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  putting  in  an  ordinary  puff  on  such  a 
man,  or  even  an  anonymous  one.  I  thought  that  a  bold  avowal 
of  my  sentiments  on  the  fine  arts,  as  divided  into  poetry,  first, 
of  language ;  second,  of  the  ear,  and  third,  of  the  eye,  and  the 
last  subdivided  into  the  Plastic  (statuary)  and  the  Graphic 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


129 


(painting),  connected,  and,  as  it  were,  isthmused,  with  common 
life  by  the  link  of  Architecture,  exemplifying  my  principles  by 
continued  reference  to  Allston's  pictures. 

"  This  would,  from  the  mere  curiosity  of  malignity  and  envy, 
answer  our  friend's  pecuniary  interests  best.  His  fame  he  will 
achieve  for  himself,  for  which  he  has  indeed  but  one  thing  to  do. 
Having  arrived  at  perfection — comparative  perfection  certainly — 
in  coloring,  drawing,  and  composition,  to  be  as  equal  to  these 
three  in  his  expression,  not  of  a  particular  passion,  but  of  the 
living,  ever-individualizing  soul,  whose  chief  and  best  meaning 
is  itself,  as  even  in  this  he  is  superior  to  the  other  artists." 

The  project  mentioned  in  the  above  letter  was  undoubtedly 
carried  out,  in  a  degree,  in  Coleridge's  "Essays  on  the  Fine 
Arts,"  published  in  the  Appendix  of  Cottle's  "  Early  Recollec- 
tions of  S.  T.  Coleridge." 

Encouraged  by  the  generous  praise  of  Coleridge,  and  invig- 
orated by  his  trip  to  Paris,  Allston  entered  his  studio  in 
London  full  of  enthusiasm  and  eager  for  work.  He  had  com- 
menced his  "  Jacob's  Dream  "  and  several  smaller  works.  Of 
this  time  he  thus  speaks  : 

"  Ah,  I  was  then  in  health,  young,  enthusiastic  in  my  art,  in 
a  measure  independent  as  to  my  pecuniary  affairs,  and  I  painted 
solely  from  the  impulse  within.  I  felt  that  I  could  do  the  work 
of  a  Titan  or  a  Hercules.  But  from  the  moment  I  felt  the  press- 
ure of  want,  and  began  to  look  upon  my  pictures  as  something  I 
must  finish  in  order  to  get  so  much  money,  from  that  moment  I 
worked  to  a  disadvantage,  and  the  spirit  of  the  artist  died  away 
from  me.  I  never  did  anything  well  in  my  art  under  the  press- 
ure of  poverty.  I  must  be  free,  and  feel  no  motive  but  such  as 
my  subject  itself  will  supply,  to  work  to  my  own  satisfaction 
and  do  justice  to  my  art  and  to  my  own  mind.  I  painted  my 
pictures  of  £  Uriel '  and  1  Elijah  in  the  Desert '  in  eight  weeks, 

of  which  I  gave  five  to  the  1  Uriel '  and  three  to  the  '  Elijah.' 
9 


130 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


"'Uriel  in  the  Sun'*  is  a  colossal  figure,  foreshortened, 
nearly  twice  the  size  of  life.  I  surrounded  him  and  the  rock  of 
adamant  on  which  he  sat  with  the  prismatic  colors,  in  the  order 
in  which  the  ray  of  light  is  decomposed  by  the  prism.  I  laid 
them  on  with  the  strongest  colors ;  and  then  with  transparent 
colors,  so  intimately  blended  them  as  to  reproduce  the  original 
ray ;  it  was  so  bright  it  made  your  eyes  twinkle  as  you  looked 
at  it." 

In  a  letter  to  Washington  Irving,  Leslie  speaks  of  the  im- 
pression made  on  him  by  this  picture  as  follows  :  "  Allston  has 
just  finished  a  very  grand  and  poetical  figure  of  the  angel 
Uriel  sitting  in  the  sun.  The  figure  is  colossal,  the  attitude  and 
air  very  noble,  and  the  form  heroic  without  being  overcharged. 
In  the  color  he  has  been  equally  successful,  and  with  a  very  rich 
and  glowing  tone  he  has  avoided  positive  colors,  which  would 
have  made  him  too  material.  There  is  neither  red,  blue,  nor 
yellow  in  the  picture,  and  yet  it  possesses  a  harmony  equal  to 
the  best  pictures  of  Paul  Veronese.  I  hope  you  will  be  in  Lon- 
don ere  long  to  see  it." 

This  picture  received  the  highest  prize  at  the  Exhibition  of 
the  British  Institution,  and  was  immediately  purchased  by  the 
Marquis  of  Stafford,  who  at  that  time  was  vice-president  of  the 
Institution.  This  incident  gave  Allston  an  opportunity  to  per- 
form one  of  those  generous  acts  so  natural  to  his  character, 
which  is  related  by  the  grateful  beneficiary,  Brockhedon  : 

"  I  do  not  remember  the  year  when  Allston  received  the  first 
prize  of  the  season  for  his  fine  picture  of  the  angel  Uriel,  at  the 
British  Institution.  In  that  year  I  also  exhibited  there  my  large 
picture  of  '  Christ  Baising  the  Widow's  Son  at  Nain.'  The  second 
premium  was  awarded  to  me.  The  next  day  Allston  called  on 
me  and  said,  with  his  peculiar  delicacy,  '  They  have  given  me 
more  and  you  less  than  was  deserved,  and  I  fear  you  must  be 

*  Paradise  Lost,  Book  iii. 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


131 


disappointed  in  your  fair  expectations,  and  may  suffer  some  in- 
convenience from  their  not  being  realized ;  for  I  know  that  your 
picture  has  been  very  expensive  to  you ;  I  do  not  want  all  that  I 
have  received,  and  I  shall  be  really  gratified  if  you  will  take  part 
of  it,  use  it,  and  repay  me  when  you  can.'  I  saw  that  I  should 
have  wounded  his  generosity  if  I  had  altogether  refused  it.  I 
did  take  a  small  part,  and  when  I  repaid  it  I  acknowledged  the 
value  of  its  use  and  his  kindness  to  me  by  sending  to  him  a 
packet  of  ultramarine,  which  I  had  brought  from  Rome ;  an 
acknowledgment  which  would  have  distressed  him  if  I  had 
offered  it  in  the  form  of  interest  for  the  sum  he  had  so  gener- 
ously lent  me." 

Of  the  other  picture,  Allston  mentions  as  having  painted  at 
this  time,  Leslie  says  :  "  '  Elijah  in  the  Desert '  was  painted  with 
great  rapidity ;  I  saw  it  a  few  days  ago  and  was  greatly  struck 
with  its  wild  grandeur,  I  cannot  conceive  the  subject  to  be  more 
finely  treated."  This  picture  was  taken  to  America,  but  was 
afterward  sold  to  Mr.  Labouchere,  M.P.,  and  brought  back  to 
England. 

Soon  after  the  Marquis  of  Stafford  had  purchased  "  Uriel  in 
the  Sun,"  certain  lovers  and  patrons  of  English  art  conceived 
the  idea  of  an  annual  Loan  Exhibition,  to  which  they  were  to 
contribute  such  pictures  of  the  old  masters  as  were  in  their 
possession.  This  idea  met  with  coldness  on  the  part  of  the 
London  artists  generally ;  it  was  carried  out,  however,  and  the 
best  Flemish,  Venetian,  Italian,  and  Spanish  masters  were 
admirably  represented.  At  the  opening,  Sir  Thomas  Law- 
rence was  observed  to  be  profuse  in  his  criticisms  and  fault- 
findings, and  the  artists  generally  followed  his  lead.  Cuyp 
was  too  hot,  Vandyck  too  cold,  Titian,  Veronese,  Raphael, 
Tintoretto,  and  Murillo  were  in  their  way  well  enough,  but,  as  a 
whole,  the  collection  represented  a  period  and  progress  in  art 
quite  below  the  modern  standard. 


132 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


In  the  midst  of  the  general  detraction  Allston  was  convers- 
ing with  a  group  of  gentlemen,  and  was  heard  to  say,  in  reference 
to  the  pictures :  "  These  suns  make  our  stars  hide  their  dimin- 
ished heads."  To  which  the  Marquis  of  Stafford,  addressing 
himself  to  Allston,  replied,  "  You,  at  least,  need  not  say  so." 

Allston  was  in  pressing  need  of  money,  with  no  prospect  of 
immediate  relief,  when  Lord  Egremont  called  at  his  studio  in- 
tending to  purchase  his  picture  "  Jacob's  Dream."  He  invited 
Allston  to  accompany  him  to  his  house  and  see  where  it  could 
be  placed.  Taking  him  into  a  room  he  asked  if  there  was  any 
space  suitable.  Allston  pointed  to  one  where  the  light  would  do, 
but  it  was  not  large  enough.  His  Lordship  said  he  would  alter 
it  to  the  required  size  by  removing  a  door  ;  Allston  advised  him 
not  to  do  it  as  the  alteration  would  injure  the  architecture  of 
the  room.  "Then,"  said  he,  "I  will  have  it  at  my  country- 
house  at  Petworth." 

In  regard  to  Allston's  religious  character  much  has  been  said. 
A  very  remarkable  story  is  told  of  him  as  illustrating  the  efficacy 
of  prayer.  This  might  naturally  have  grown  out  of  the  incident 
connected  with  the  purchase  of  "Jacob's  Dream,"  and  the  seem- 
ingly providential  call  of  Lord  Egremont  when  the  artist  was  in 
so  great  need  of  money.    We  find  no  other  basis  for  the  story. 

Mrs.  Jameson  describes  "  Jacob's  Dream  "  in  these  words  : 
"The  subject  is  very  sublimely  and  originally  treated,  with  a 
feeling  wholly  distinct  from  the  shadowy  mysticism  of  Rem- 
brandt and  the  graceful  simplicity  of  Raphael.  Instead  of  a 
ladder  or  steps,  with  a  few  angels,  he  gave  the  idea  of  a  glorious 
vision,  in  which  countless  myriads  of  the  heavenly  host  are  seen 
dissolving  into  light  and  distance,  and  immeasurable  flights  of 
steps  rising,  spreading  above  and  beyond  each  other,  till  lost  in 
infinitude." 

At  an  artists'  dinner  in  London,  at  which  were  present  some 
of  the  most  distinguished  painters  of  the  time — Royal  Academi- 


Outline  Sketch  of  Two  Angels  in  "Jacob's  Dream." 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


133 


cians  and  others — this  picture  was  discussed.  The  praises  it 
received  were  profuse.  There  was  no  dissent  from  the  most 
exalted  opinion  of  its  merits.  It  was  regarded  as  possessing,  in 
a  remarkable  degree,  all  the  elements  required  to  produce  the 
best  effects  in  the  highest  range  of  ideal  art.  It  was  declared  to 
be  not  only  the  star  of  the  Exhibition,  but,  in  its  sphere,  the 
greatest  picture  of  modern  times.  In  conception  the  picture 
was  really  unique.  There  was  in  it  the  self-assertion,  the  calm 
assurance  of  power — power  to  tread  untried  fields,  to  disregard 
high  precedent,  and  to  explore  for  himself  the  way  of  the  ascend- 
ing and  descending  angels  of  the  patriarch's  vision.  No  one 
who  sees  it  can  fail  to  observe  the  peculiar  sublimity  of  Allston's 
conception.  It  is  remarkable  in  its  departure  from  the  common 
conventional  ladder  without  violence  to  the  textual  authority, 
and  without  unduly  straining  a  poetic  license.  The  expanse  of 
golden  steps  melting  into  the  supernal ;  the  grace  of  the  celestial 
beings  rendered  congruous  and  natural  by  the  easy  ascent ;  the 
amplitude  of  space  illimitable ;  the  repose  of  beauty — the  lofty 
expression  in  every  line  of  the  angel  figures ;  the  poetry  of 
movement ;  the  spiritualization  of  familiar  forms  into  images 
immaculate  and  heavenly,  combine  to  make  it  a  singularly  im- 
pressive and  beautiful  picture. 

Not  long  after  Allston's  return  from  England  he  received  a 
copy  of  Wordsworth's  poem,  "Composed  upon  an  Evening  of 
extraordinary  Splendor  and  Beauty,"  with  the  accompanying 
note  :  "  Transcribed  by  Mrs.  Wordsworth,  in  gratitude  for  the 
pleasure  she  received  from  the  sight  of  Allston's  pictures,  in 
particular  1  Jacob's  Dream.'  "  And  at  the  end  of  the  poem  was 
added  the  following : 

"N.B. — The  author  knows  not  how  far  he  was  indebted  to 
Mr.  Allston  for  part  of  the  third  stanza.  The  multiplication  of 
ridges  in  a  mountainous  country,  as  Mr.  Allston  has  probably 


134 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


observed,  are  from  two  causes,  sunny  or  watery  haze  or  vapor ; 
the  former  is  here  meant.  When  does  Mr.  Allston  return  to 
England  ? 

"  Wm.  Wordsworth." 

The  third  stanza  only  need  be  included  here. 

And  if  there  be  whom  broken  ties 

Afflict,  or  injuries  assail, 

Yon  hazy  ridges  to  their  eyes 

Present  a  glorious  scale  ; 

Climbing  suffused  in  sunny  air 

To  stop — no  record  hath  told  where  ! 

And  tempting  fancy  to  ascend 

And  with  immortal  spirits  blend ! 

— Wings  at  my  shoulders  seem  to  play ; 

But  rooted  here  I  stand  and  gaze 

On  those  bright  steps  that  heav'nward  raise 

Their  practicable  way. 

Come  forth,  ye  drooping  old  men,  look  abroad 

And  see  to  what  fair  countries  ye  are  bound  ! 

And  if  some  traveller,  weary  of  his  road, 

Hath  slept  since  noontide  on  the  grassy  ground, 

Ye  Genii  to  his  covert  speed, 

And  wake  him  with  such  gentle  heed 

As  may  attune  his  soul  to  meet  the  dower 

Bestowed  on  this  transcendent  hour ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


ALLSTON'S  FINAL  RETURN  TO  AMERICA. — LETTERS  OF  EARNEST  PRO- 
TEST AGAINST  HIS  LEAVING  ENGLAND. — ELECTION  AS  AN  ASSO- 
CIATE OF  THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY. — WARM  LETTERS  FROM 
COLLLNS  AND  LESLIE. 

To  quote  Allston's  own  words :  "  A  homesickness  which  (in 
spite  of  some  of  the  best  and  kindest  friends  and  every  en- 
couragement that  I  could  wish  as  an  artist)  I  could  not  over- 
come, brought  me  back  to  my  own  country  in  1818."  Thus 
briefly  did  he  touch  upon  the  cause  for  making,  in  many  re- 
spects, the  most  important  move  of  his  life.  His  career  as  an 
artist  culminated  at  this  time.  He  had  painted  his  portraits  of 
Coleridge  and  Dr.  King,  with  other  pictures,  in  Bristol ;  he  had 
finished  "  The  Dead  Man  Revived,"  "  Uriel  in  the  Sim,"  and 
"  Jacob's  Dream."  By  these  works  he  had  secured  substantial 
public  recognition,  having  received  on  several  occasions  prizes 
from  the  British  Institution  and  the  Royal  Academy.  He  had 
secured  private  patronage  from  distinguished  men,  connoisseurs, 
and  lovers  of  art.  Every  avenue  to  preferment  in  the  line  of  his 
profession  was  open  to  him ;  social,  literary,  artistic  distinction ; 
fame,  fortune,  academic  honors — all  invited,  all  urged  him  for- 
ward. America  had  furnished  men  who  had  figured  conspicu- 
ously in  England  and  left  a  lasting  record  in  the  annals  of 
English  art,  but  Allston  seemed  confessedly  destined  to  surpass 
them  all.  As  Morse  wrote  in  a  letter  given  elsewhere,  "Mr. 
Allston  will  almost  as  far  surpass  Mr.  West  as  Mr.  West  has 


136 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


other  artists,  and  this  is  saying  a  great  deal,  considering  the  very 
high  standing  which  Mr.  West  enjoys  at  present." 

It  goes  almost  without  saying,  to  those  familiar  with  his 
career,  that  had  Allston  remained  in  England  he  would  have 
succeeded  West  as  President  of  the  Royal  Academy.  Morse 
spoke  advisedly  when  he  said  he  was  looked  upon  by  his  con- 
temporaries in  England  as  the  one  man  capable  of  restoring  the 
best  art  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Also  Leslie,  when  he  said  of 
"  Uriel  in  the  Sun,"  "  It  is  worthy  to  rank  with  the  best  works 
of  Paul  Veronese."  In  accord  with  this,  we  find  in  the  author's 
copy  of  the  "  Sibylline  Leaves,"  now  owned  by  the  family  of  the 
poet  Longfellow,  on  the  margin,  opposite  Allston's  poem, 
"  America  to  Great  Britain,"  the  following  in  Coleridge's  hand- 
writing :  "  By  Washington  Allston,  a  painter  born  to  renew  the 
sixteenth  century." 

In  view  of  these  high  testimonies  from  competent  witnesses, 
it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  regret  at  Allston's  return  to  America. 
Leslie  gives  as  his  belief  that  one  cause  for  his  leaving  England 
was  the  result  of  his  open-handed  charity  to  the  street  beggars 
in  London.  They  made  his  life  miserable  by  their  incessant  im- 
portunities at  home  and  in  the  streets.  Among  other  reasons 
leading  to  a  step  so  ill-advised  we  may  suggest  the  encourage- 
ment he  derived  from  the  sale  of  "The  Dead  Man  Revived"  to  the 
Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts ;  this  no  doubt  strongly  influ- 
enced his  return,  but  probably  that  which  more  than  anything 
else  determined  his  action  was  the  intelligence  he  received  from 
Charleston  about  that  time,  that  his  patrimony  was  exhausted. 
Moreover,  his  love  of  country  was  a  constantly  stimulating  mo- 
tive. It  was  an  element  of  power  in  his  ambition  and  in  his 
work.  His  first  great  picture  had  taken  the  highest  prize  at  the 
British  Institution.  It  had  won  the  praises  of  the  best  judges 
of  art  in  London,  but  it  was  purchased  by  his  own  countrymen. 
Thus  his  patriotism  probably  increased  that  homesickness  which 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


137 


he  assigned  as  the  sole  cause  for  a  step  which  proved  fatal  to 
the  hopes  of  his  friends  and  brought  to  an  untimely  end  his 
great  career. 

Of  his  English  friends  Allston  says  :  "  By  the  English  artists, 
among  whom  I  number  some  of  my  most  valued  friends,  I  was 
uniformly  treated  with  openness  and  liberality.  Out  of  the  art, 
too,  I  found  many  fast  and  generous  friends,  and  here,  though 
I  record  a  compliment  to  myself,  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  satis- 
faction of  repeating  the  kind  words  of  Lord  Egremont  a  few 
weeks  before  I  left  England  :  '  I  hear  you  are  going  to  America,' 
said  he.  '  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  Well,  if  you  do  not  meet  with  the 
encouragement  which  you  deserve  in  your  own  country,  we  shall 
all  be  very  glad  to  see  you  back  again.'  I  have  ventured  to  al- 
low myself  this  piece  of  egotism  for  the  sake  of  my  countrymen, 
who,  I  hope,  will  never  let  any  deserving  British  artist,  who 
should  come  among  us,  feel  that  he  is  not  welcome.  England 
has  never  made  any  distinction  between  our  artists  and  her  own ; 
never  may  America. 

"  Among  the  many  persons  from  whom  I  received  attentions 
during  my  residence  in  London  I  must  not  omit  Colonel  Trum- 
bull, who  always  treated  me  with  the  utmost  courtesy.  Among 
my  English  friends  it  is  no  disparagement  to  any  to  place  at  their 
head  Sir  George  Beaumont.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  my  obli- 
gations to  such  a  man,  a  gentleman  in  his  very  nature — gentle, 
brilliant,  generous.  I  was  going  to  attempt  his  character,  but  I 
will  not ;  it  was  so  peculiar  and  finely  textured  that  I  know  but 
one  man  who  could  draw  it,  and  that's  Coleridge,  who  knew  him 
well — to  know  whom  was  to  honor." 

When  Sir  George  heard  that  Allston  was  going  to  leave  Eng- 
land he  wrote  as  follows  : 

"Grosvenor  Square,  June  29,  1818. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  am  very  sorry  I  was  from  home  when 
you  called  this  morning,  and  it  is  with  concern  I  hear  of  your  in- 


138 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


tention  to  return  to  America  immediately.  I  am  far  from  the  ex- 
clusive wish  of  limiting  the  arts  to  this  or  that  country,  for  I  am 
convinced  the  more  they  are  spread  the  greater  degree  of  emula- 
tion will  be  excited,  and  the  more  all  the  benefits  they  are  capa- 
ble of  giving  to  mankind  will  be  of  course  extended,  and  they 
themselves  will  be  brought  to  a  greater  degree  of  perfection. 
But  I  am  convinced  you  are  quitting  this  country  at  a  moment 
when  the  extent  of  your  talents  begins  to  be  felt,  and  when  the 
encouragement  you  are  likely  to  receive  will  bring  them  to  per- 
fection, and  you  would  then  return  to  your  native  country  fully 
qualified  to  improve  and  direct  the  exertions  which  I  am  happy 
to  hear  are  now  apparent  in  America. 

"However,  whatever  you  may  resolve  upon,  depend  upon 
this,  that  you  will  be  attended  by  the  best  wishes  of  both  myself 
and  Lady  Beaumont  that  your  endeavors  will  be  crowned  with 
all  the  success  they  so  amply  deserve.  I  am,  my  dear  Sir,  with 
much  regard, 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"Geokge  Beaumont." 

Charles  E.  Leslie  said :  "  There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that 
Allston,  had  he  remained  in  England,  would  very  soon  have 
been  made  an  Academician.  The  feeling  was  unanimous  in  his 
favor  among  all  the  members,  at  the  time  when  his  pictures  were 
seen  here.  Indeed,  I  am  not  certain  but  that,  had  he  exhibited 
pictures  with  us  after  his  departure  he  might  have  been  elected." 

In  a  letter  from  W.  F.  Collard  to  Leslie,  he  says :  "  How 
many  hours  have  dear  Allston  and  I  spent  together,  both  by 
night  and  alone  in  his  studio  by  day,  and  never  once  have  I 
quitted  him  without  considering  him  one  of  the  most  benevolent, 
intelligent,  and  interesting  men  I  had  ever  known.  There  are 
some,  and  of  the  highest  class,  who  are  subject  to  let  their  imagi- 
nations outstrip  their  industry,  and  the  dreams  of  their  inten- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


139 


tions  occupy  too  much  of  that  space  which  should  be  covered  by 
prompt  exertion.  It  was  from  a  tendency  of  this  sort  that  I 
thought  observable  in  the  disposition  of  our  friend  that  I  la- 
mented exceedingly  his  quitting  England ;  for  this  is  the  place 
where  the  furor  of  emulation,  with  its  consequent  spur  to  indus- 
try, was  more  likely  to  be  kept  up  by  the  antagonism  of  talent 
than  in  his  own  country. 

"The  picture  which  subsequently  procured  his  Academic 
honors  gave  him  a  position  from  which  his  ambition  would  not 
allow  him  to  recede,  and  I  therefore  have  full  hope  that  if  he  had 
remained  here  his  further  efforts  would  have  carried  him  to  that 
height  in  his  profession  to  which  his  rare  talents  were  capable  of 
bearing  him,  whereas  the  seating  himself  down  in  a  more  limited 
sphere,  the  want  of  rivalry  (which  few  can  bear  with  impunity), 
the  praise  he  was  likely  to  receive,  and  the  ease  with  which  he 
might  live,  might,  I  am  fearful,  prevent  the  full  development  of 
the  abilities  he  so  unquestionably  possessed." 

Irving  wrote  to  Leslie,  "I  shall  try  hard  to  see  Allston  be- 
fore he  sails.  I  regret  exceedingly  that  he  goes  to  America,  now 
that  his  prospects  are  opening  so  promisingly  in  this  country. 
His  1  Jacob's  Dream '  was  a  particular  favorite  of  mine.  I  have 
gazed  on  it  again  and  again,  and  the  more  I  gazed  the  more  de- 
lighted I  was  with  it.  I  believe  I  could  at  this  moment  take  a 
pencil  and  delineate  the  whole  with  the  attitude  and  expression 
of  every  figure." 

Allston  says:  "Leslie,  Irving,  and  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence 
were  the  last  persons  I  shook  hands  with  before  leaving  Lon- 
don. Irving  and  Leslie  had  accompanied  me  to  the  stage,  and 
Sir  Thomas,  who  was  passing  by  on  his  morning  ride,  kindly 
stopped  to  offer  me  his  good  wishes.  It  is  pleasant  to  have  the 
last  interview  with  those  whom  we  wish  to  remember  associated 
with  kind  feelings." 

After  a  very  stormy  passage  the  ship  which  bore  Allston  to 


140 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


America  arrived  in  safety.  He  thus  expresses  his  emotions  at 
that  time  : 

"We  made  Boston  harbor  on  a  clear  evening  in  October.  It 
was  an  evening  to  remember !  The  wind  fell  and  left  our  ship 
almost  stationary  on  a  long,  low  swell,  as  smooth  as  glass,  and 
undulating  under  one  of  our  gorgeous  autumnal  skies  like  a 
prairie  of  amber.  The  moon  looked  down  upon  us  like  a  living 
thing,  as  if  to  bid  us  welcome,  and  the  fanciful  thought  is  still  in 
my  memory  that  she  broke  her  image  on  the  water  to  make  part- 
ners for  a  dance  of  fireflies,  and  they  did  dance,  if  ever  I  saw 
dancing.  Another  thought  recurs,  that  I  had  returned  to  a 
mighty  empire ;  that  I  was  in  the  very  waters  which  the  gallant 
Constitution  had  first  broken ;  whose  building  I  saw  while  at 
college,  and  whose  '  slaughter-breathing  brass,'  to  use  a  quotation 
from  worthy  Cotton  Mather's  'Magnalia,'  but  now  t  grew  hot  and 
spoke  '  her  name  among  the  nations." 

Immediately  after  Allston's  departure  for  America  he  was 
elected  an  Associate  of  the  Royal  Academy.  His  friend  Collins 
was  the  first  to  notify  him  of  the  bestowal  of  this  Academic 
honor. 

4<  London,  November  4,  1818. 

"  Deae  Allston  :  From  my  very  heart's  core  do  I  congratu- 
late you  upon  your  election  as  an  Associate  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy, a  circumstance  as  honorable  to  that  body  as  to  yourself, 
and  of  which  I  received  the  gratifying  intelligence  yesterday.  I 
immediately  sent  to  Leslie,  who  came  over  out  of  breath ;  and 
all  the  news  I  had  to  communicate  to  him  has,  I  believe,  kept 
him,  to  a  certain  degree,  in  the  same  state  ever  since.  Had  you 
been  here ! — but  you  will  come. 

"  And  now  to  the  fulfilment  of  your  commission,  to  send  all 
the  news  I  can,  to  which  end  I  shall  give  you  a  succession  of  such 
events  as  may  serve  to  remind  you  of  the  ties  you  have  in  this 
country.    The  letter  you  sent  me  at  Sir  George  Beaumont's 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


141 


came  during  dinner,  and  I,  of  course,  made  Sir  George  and  her 
ladyship  acquainted  with  that  part  of  it  relating  to  themselves. 
If  I  have  any  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  what  the  two  said 
of  you  was  direct  from  that  spot.  May  all  the  success  we  that 
day  wished  you  attend  your  steps. 

"  With  the  scenery  of  the  north  I  am  charmed,  and,  consid- 
ering the  time  necessarily  occupied  in  travelling,  I  have  not  been 
altogether  idle.  Your  hints  about  Coleridge  I  did  not  fail  at- 
tending to.  With  his  wife  I  am  pleased,  and  his  elegant  daugh- 
ter Sara  I  have  made  a  painting  of.  She  is  a  most  interesting 
creature,  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  the  parties  we  occasion- 
ally form  with  these  good  people,  Southey,  Hartley  Coleridge, 
etc.,  I  shall  not  soon  forget. 

"From  Keswick  I  went  to  Scotland.  After  spending  ten 
days  in  Edinburgh,  I  returned  to  Sir  George's,  and,  with  himself 
and  Lady  Beaumont,  visited  Ullswater  and  Ambleside,  where  we 
stayed  some  days  with  Wordsworth,  with  whom  I  am  much  de- 
lighted; and  in  some  of  our  rambles,  when  he  could  have  had  no 
motive  but  that  of  gratifying  his  own  love  of  truth,  he  left  me 
perfectly  persuaded  that,  among  all  your  friends  and  admirers, 
you  had  not  a  more  disinterested  one  than  himself.  The  kind 
regards  I  am  desired  by  Wordsworth,  his  wife,  Southey,  and 
Hartley  to  send  to  you,  are  testimonies  of  a  friendship  by  no 
means  common,  and  therefore  will  have  their  true  weight  with 
you. 

"  Having  now,  at  the  least  possible  expense  of  style,  told  you 
so  much,  I  have  only  to  assure  you  of  the  warm  wishes  and 
hopes  of  all  your  friends,  and  (as  you  already  know)  of  how  much 
I  am,  my  dear  Allston,  yours  ever, 

"  William  Collins." 

"  P.S. — I  shall  expect  a  letter  from  you.  Come  home  and  take 
your  seat  at  the  lectures ;  have  you  no  esprit  de  corps  ?    I  pre- 


142 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


sented  your  poems  to  Lady  Beaumont,  who  had  never  seen  them, 
and  I  had  the  very  high  gratification  to  hear  them  spoken  of  in 
terms  of  considerable  approbation  not  only  by  her  ladyship  but 
by  Southey  and  Wordsworth.  Southey  said  that,  whatever  de- 
fects some  of  them  might  have,  he  had  no  hesitation  in  saying 
that  they  could  not  have  proceeded  from  any  but  a  poetic  mind ; 
in  which  sentiment  he  was  most  cordially  supported  by  "Words- 
worth, who  was  present  at  the  time.  Fare  thee  well,  God  bless 
you !  Write  soon.  Sir  George  Beaumont  and  Wordsworth  pro- 
pose writing  to  you." 

Leslie's  congratulations  followed  closely  those  of  his  friend ; 
he  thus  writes : 

"London,  November  7,  1818. 

"  My  Deae  Fkiend  :  You  will  doubtless  receive  by  this  op- 
portunity various  information  of  your  election.  You  had  ten 
votes  out  of  fifteen.  Need  I  say  that  all  your  friends  most  cor- 
dially rejoice  at  it.  I  carried  the  pleasing  intelligence  out  to 
Highgate  the  day  I  heard  it,  and  while  I  was  there  Mr.  Gillman 
received  a  note  from  Phillips,  the  A.,  informing  them  of  it  as 
a  circumstance  that  he  knew  would  give  them  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure. By  the  bye,  Collins  thinks  that  your  picture  of  '  Jacob's 
Dream '  ought  now  to  be  exhibited  at  the  Academy,  and  as  he 
has  no  doubt  you  will  concur  in  the  same  opinion,  he  intends 
proposing  to  Phillips  to  ask  Lord  Egremont's  permission.  He 
told  me  last  night  he  had  seen  Sir  George,  who  had  just  arrived 
in  town,  and  who  heartily  partakes  of  the  general  pleasure  on 
your  account.    He  intends  writing  to  you. 

" Coleridge  is  as  well  as  he  usually  is;  Mrs.  Gillman  is  better 
than  usual.  When  Collins  was  in  Cumberland  he  made  a  sketch 
of  Coleridge's  daughter,  a  very  interesting  girl  of  fifteen,  and  it  is 
by  far  the  best  portrait  he  ever  painted  The  sentiment  (for  in 
speaking  of  it  I  may  safely  use  that  hackneyed  word)  is  exqui- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


143 


site.  I  took  it  to  show  Coleridge  as  one  of  my  own,  to  see  if  he 
would  discover  the  likeness,  which  he  did ;  a  proof  that  it  must 
be  very  strong,  as  he  has  not  seen  her  for  many  years  and  had 
not  the  most  distant  idea  that  it  was  intended  for  her.  Cole- 
ridge is  going  to  lecture  again  on  philosophy  and  Shakespeare. 
Ogilvie  is  lecturing  at  the  Surrey  Institution ;  Payne  has  written 
a  tragedy,  which  has  been  received  at  Drury  Lane  and  is  to  be 
speedily  produced.  The  story  is  that  of  Junius  Brutus.  Kean 
plays  Brutus.  Irving  is  still  in  town,  and,  I  believe,  intends  re- 
maining here.  He  is  occasionally  manufacturing.  I  have  not 
seen  Collard  since  his  return,  though  I  have  called  on  him  sev- 
eral times. 

"  I  called  on  Mr.  West  as  soon  as  I  heard  of  your  election,  but 
did  not  see  him  ;  his  health  is  pretty  good.  If  Morse  is  in  Bos- 
ton tell  him  I  have  received  his  letter  of  the  8th  September,  and 
will  answer  it  immediately.  I  suppose  the  Doctor  is  married  by 
this  time ;  if  so,  give  him  my  love  and  sincere  congratulations 
upon  the  occasion.  We  are  in  hourly  expectation  of  the  news  of 
your  arrival. 

"  I  hope  your  new  title  will  encourage  you  to  dash  on  boldly 
with  '  Belshazzar.'  Success  and  every  blessing  attend  you.  I 
have  no  expectation  now  of  going  to  America  this  autumn,  and 
when  the  spring  arrives  I  shall  wish  to  see  the  Exhibition  at 
Somerset  House,  so  that  it  is  probable  I  may  not  get  away  till 
about  the  time  of  year  you  did. 

"  Yours,  with  greatest  affection, 

"  Charles  K.  Leslie." 

About  this  time  Allston  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Mo- 
Murtrie : 

u  Boston,  November  7,  1818 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  The  enclosed,  which  was  written  more  than 
three  weeks  ago,  I  have  been  prevented  finishing  before  this  by 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


such  incessant  engagements  and  excitements  as  have  left  me  not 
one  collected  hour  in  which  I  could  calmly  sit  down  to  write. 
I  therefore  beg  you  to  excuse  the  delay,  and  take  my  wish  to 
have  been  more  punctual  for  the  performance.    .    .  . 

"  The  success  I  have  lately  met  with  in  England  left  me  but 
one  finished  picture  to  bring  with  me,  *  Elijah  in  the  Wilder- 
ness,' and  which,  had  I  remained  a  few  weeks  longer,  I  had  the 
prospect  of  also  transferring  to  another  proprietor.  I  have 
brought,  however,  several  others,  on  the  stocks,  some  of  which 
are  considerably  advanced,  particularly  '  Belshazzar's  Feast,  or 
the  Handwriting  on  the  Wall ' — sixteen  by  twelve  in  size,  which, 
I  believe,  is  several  feet  larger  than  '  The  Eaising  of  the  Dead 
Man.'  I  purpose  finishing  it  here.  All  the  laborious  part  is  over, 
but  there  remains  still  about  six  or  eight  months'  work  to  do  to  it. 

"As  I  get  on  with  it  and  other  smaller  works,  which  I  may 
probably  proceed  with  at  the  same  time,  I  will  take  the  liberty, 
occasionally,  to  drop  you  a  line.  In  the  spring  or  summer  I  may 
not  unlikely  pay  you  a  visit.  I  have  a  great  desire  to  see  your 
city,  and  the  state  of  Arts  there.  Though  I  have  not  the  pleas- 
ure of  a  personal  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Sully,  I  yet  so  well 
know  him  through  his  friends,  and  the  friendly  assistance  he,  in 
conjunction  with  yourself,  has  rendered  me,  that  I  must  in  a  par- 
ticular manner  beg  you  to  present  my  respects. 

"  I  left  Leslie  well.  He  intends  embarking  for  America  in 
the  spring.  He  has  lately  finished  a  beautiful  little  picture, 
'  Anne  Page  inviting  Master  Slender  in,'  from  'The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor.'  It  is  finely  composed,  and  I  thought  it  his  hap- 
piest effort. 

"  I  remain,  dear  sir,  sincerely  yours, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

And  in  a  letter  dated  Boston,  December  14,  1818,  he 
writes : 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


145 


"  Mr.  Rogers  has  kindly  offered  to  see  to  the  shipment  for 
Charleston,  S.  C,  of  my  picture,  namely,  the  large  landscape  of 
Swiss  scenery,  with  figures,  representing  '  Diana  in  the  Chase,* 
which  I  sent  out  from  London,  to  your  care,  about  two  years 
ago.  .  .  .  Will  you  gratify  him  by  showing  him  your  little 
picture,  by  me,  of  '  The  Mother  and  Child  ?  ' 

"  Stuart  has  painted  an  admirable  portrait  of  Trumbull,  who 
has  had  great  success  here  with  his  picture,  having  got,  in  three 
weeks,  seventeen  hundred  dollars  by  its  exhibition." 
10 


CHAPTER  XV. 


LETTERS  OF  THE  YEAR  1819 — FROM  G.  C.  YERPLANCK,  C.  R.  LESLIE, 
SIR  GEORGE  BEAUMONT,  AND  ALLSTON. 

The  following  letter,  dated  London,  February  6,  1819,  from 
C.  R.  Leslie,  was  in  reply  to  his  first  news  from  Allston  after  the 
latter's  return  to  America : 

"My  Dear  Friend:  I  received,  sometime  ago,  yours  of  De- 
cember 4th,  which  I  must  beg  your  pardon  for  not  answering 
sooner.  I  had  before  received  the  pleasant  intelligence  of  your 
safe  arrival  and  cordial  reception  by  your  friends.  The  dangers 
of  your  voyage,  must,  if  possible,  have  given  you  a  keener  relish 
for  the  endearments  of  home. 

"  Five  commissions  for  small  pictures  ?  Bravo !  I  hope  this 
will  last,  and  I  shall  hear  by  the  next  opportunity  that  the  hos- 
pital has  engaged  you  to  paint  1  Belshazzar '  for  them.  The 
British  Gallery  is  now  open,  but  Lord  Egremont,  who  is  out  of 
town,  did  not  send  your  picture  there.  As  you  are  an  Associate, 
all  your  friends  presume  you  would  wish  it  to  be  at  the  Acad- 
emy, particularly  now  that  Lord  Egremont  has  not  sent  it  to  the 
Gallery.  Phillips  mentioned  it  to  me,  and  said  he  would  un- 
dertake to  ask  Lord  Egremont. 

"  They  have  placed  my  '  Anne  Page '  very  well  at  the  Gallery, 
and  it  has  already  been  highly  spoken  of  by  some  of  the  papers  ; 
I  have  great  hopes  of  selling  it.  Newton  has  sent  there  a  very 
beautiful  picture  of  '  Falstaff  in  the  Buck-basket,'  which  was  mis- 
taken by  one  of  the  editors  for  Stephenoff,  and  highly  praised. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


147 


The  Exhibition  is  rich  in  small  pictures.  There  is  a  beautiful 
little  sunny  gem  by  Wilkie,  of  1  China  Menders  at  a  Cottage 
Door.'  Two  very  clever  sketches  by  John  Chalon,  of  Parisian 
scenes,  in  which  the  present  French  character  is  admirably  hit. 
A  beautiful  one  by  Alfred  Chalon,  of  Moliere  reading  one  of  his 
plays  to  his  housekeeper ;  a  very  fine  group  of  fighting  horse- 
men by  Cooper ;  a  falling  figure,  foreshortened  against  a  blue 
sky,  by  Etty,  which  in  purity  and  force  of  color  resembles  Paul 
Veronese  ;  a  Jew's  head,  as  a  matter  of  course,  by  Jackson ;  and 
though  I  mention  it  last,  yet  very  far  from  least,  a  magnificent 
picture  of  the  '  Fall  of  Babylon '  by  Martin,  which,  I  think,  even 
surpasses  his  1  Joshua.'  I  need  say  no  more.  It  attracts  general 
admiration,  and  Sir  John  Leicester  has  been  to  see  him  on  the 
strength  of  it.    I  hope  it  will  benefit  his  purse. 

"  I  am  at  present  painting  a  picture  on  commission  for  Mr. 
Dunlop  for  one  hundred  guineas.  The  subject  is  from  the  112th 
number  of  the  'Spectator,'  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and  the  Spec- 
tator going  to  church,  surrounded  by  Sir  Roger's  tenants.  The 
background  is  from  a  sketch  of  Mamhead  Church,  I  made  in 
Devonshire.  It  will  contain  about  fourteen  principal  figures,  the 
largest  of  which  will  be  about  sixteen  inches  high,  the  canvas 
between  four  and  five  feet  long,  and  between  three  and  four  high. 
With  the  sketch,  and  as  far  as  I  have  proceeded  with  the  picture, 
I  am  far  better  pleased  than  with  anything  I  ever  attempted  be- 
fore. Collins  has  very  nearly  completed  a  most  excellent  pict- 
ure for  Sir  John  Leicester.  It  is  a  grander  scene  than  he  ever 
painted  before,  made  up  from  his  Cumberland  sketches  and  the 
most  interesting  picture  of  English  mountainous  scenery  I  ever 
saw.  He  has  introduced  a  group  of  figures  in  his  best  style,  and 
over  the  whole  picture  he  has  thrown  his  greatest  luxuriance  of 
color  and  execution. 

"  I  saw  Irving  to-day.  I  wish,  when  you  have  leisure,  you 
would  write  to  him ;  he  will  probably  remain  in  London  some 


14S 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


time.  By  the  bye,  if  you  have  not  already  done  it,  pray  write  to 
Collins.  You  know  he  sometimes  annoys  himself  causelessly. 
He  talks  a  great  deal  about  you,  and  is  constantly  calculating 
upon  all  the  chances  that  may  bring  you  here  again.  As  for  my- 
self, I  will  not  engage  you  to  any  regular  correspondence.  Write 
often  as  you  feel  inclined,  and  delay  it  as  long  as  you  like,  being 
to  me  as  assured  of  one  thing,  that  your  letters,  whenever  they 
do  come,  will  be  most  dearly  acceptable  to  me,  who  must  be  ever, 
while  I  have  life,  yours  truly, 

"C.  E.  Leslie." 

The  following,  from  Allston  to  Verplanck,  is  dated  at  Boston, 
March  12,  1819  : 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  Pray  accept  my  thanks  for  your  book.  I 
like  it  exceedingly,  and  know  not  how  I  could  better  express  my 
pleasure  in  the  perusal  than  by  saying  that  it  appeared  to  me 
just  what  it  ought  to  be ;  concise,  yet  eloquent.  The  character  of 
Penn  I  knew  but  little  of,  of  Eoger  Williams  nothing  more  than 
as  the  principal  founder  of  the  town  of  Providence ;  but  Berkeley 
had  long  been  a  favorite  with  me,  and  I  was  pleased  to  find  his 
character  so  happily  touched  by  your  pencil ;  it  seems  to  have 
been  sketched  con  amove.  He  is  one  of  the  very  few  philoso- 
phers whom  we  can  love  as  well  as  admire,  for,  as  you  well  ob- 
serve, even  his  most  eccentric  flights  are  marked  by  a  moral 
splendor.  In  the  character  of  Las  Casas,  also,  I  think  you  have 
been  eminently  successful.  Would  not  his  adventures  with  a 
little  embellishment  furnish  a  good  subject  for  a  tale  ?  Perhaps 
you  will  be  gratified  to  learn  that  your  book  is  also  liked  by 
others ;  Mr.  Quincy  in  particular  spoke  of  it  to  me  in  high 
terms.  The  North  American  has  a  review  of  it,  which  I  under- 
stand is  quite  favorable,  but  I  have  not  read  it.  Now  that  your 
pen  is  resumed,  I  hope  that  you  will  not  soon  lay  it  aside.  We 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


149 


want  some  good  books  on  national  subjects,  and  you  have  shown 
yourself  equal  to  the  task  of  supplying  them. 

"I  must  not  close  this  without  some  account  of  what  I  am 
doing.  At  present  I  am  engaged  on  two  small  pictures,  which 
will  be  finished  in  a  few  days.  After  these  I  shall  proceed  with 
some  on  commission,  somewhat  larger,  and  probably  by  June  I 
shall  be  enabled  to  go  on  with  the  large  picture  I  began  in  Eng- 
land of  Belshazzar's  impious  feast,  which  I  hope  to  make  profit- 
able by  exhibition.  After  that,  if  it  please  God,  I  am  commis- 
sioned and  shall  paint  a  large  picture  for  the  hospital  in  this 
town,  the  subject  not  yet  determined,  but  it  will  be  from  Script- 
ure. So  you  see  my  friends  here  are  disposed  to  give  me  sub- 
stantial welcome.  I  had  a  letter  from  Leslie  lately ;  I  am  sorry 
to  find  that  he  does  not  intend  returning  to  America  before  this 
time  next  year.  Have  you  heard  from  Irving  ?  I  hope  before 
the  summer  passes  to  see  you  in  New  York.  What  are  the  ar- 
tists there  quarrelling  about  ?  Certainly  not  to  advance  art,  or 
even  themselves. 

"  I  remain,  sincerely  yours, 

"Washington  Allston." 

In  the  spring  or  early  summer  of  1819,  Allston  received  the 
announcement  that  he  had  been  elected  an  honorary  member 
of  the  New  York  Historical  Society.  The  announcement  was 
accompanied  by  the  following  letter  from  Gulian  C.  Verplanck : 

"  Dear  Sir  :  The  above  has  just  been  handed  to  me  to  for- 
ward to  you,  and  lest  you  should  think  so  empty  an  honor  not 
worth  the  postage  which  it  will  cost  you,  I  take  the  liberty  to  fill 
up  the  sheet.  We  had  elected  Colonel  Trumbull  one  of  the  Vice- 
Presidents,  in  compliment  to  his  talent  as  an  historical  painter, 
and  I  therefore  thought  it  proper  that  you  should  share  in  the 
honors,  such  as  they  are,  of  the  Institution. 


150 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


"  You  suggest  Las  Casas's  history  to  me  as  furnishing  the 
groundwork  of  a  tale.  I  hardly  think  that  he  could  be  made  the 
hero ;  he  might,  however,  be  introduced  with  great  effect,  as  in- 
deed Marmontel  has  already  employed  him  in  1  The  Incas.'  Per- 
mit me,  in  my  turn,  to  recommend  him  to  you.  What  do  you 
think  of  (as  the  subject  of  a  small  picture)  Las  Casas  reproach- 
ing Ferdinand  with  the  personal  guilt  of  the  crimes  of  his  sol- 
diers in  New  Spain,  and  the  monarch  conscience-struck  and 
trembling  before  him  ?  The  scene  might  be  either  in  the  midst 
of  the  court,  which  would  give  room  for  great  variety  of  expres- 
sion, or  you  may  presume  it  to  have  taken  place  at  a  private 
audience,  which  will  give  you  a  scene  like  that  of  Nathan  and 
David,  a  subject,  by  the  way,  which  I  do  not  remember  ever  to 
have  seen  managed  with  much  ability.  I  would  not  trust  to  in- 
vention for  the  countenance  and  person  of  Las  Casas,  but  would 
embody  him  with  the  form  of  Fenelon,  such  as  we  have  him  in 
the  better  portraits  and  engravings  of  him. 

"  I  have  a  literary  plan  which  I  shall  embody  as  soon  as  I 
find  opportunity  and  materials.  It  is  a  sketch  of  the  literary 
history  of  this  country,  containing  notices  of  the  various  original 
works  printed  here ;  views  of  controversies,  religious  and  politi- 
cal ;  biographical  and  critical  sketches  of  distinguished  literary 
men,  from  Cotton  Mather  and  George  Winthrop  to  Barlow  and 
D wight,  with,  perhaps,  views  of  the  state  of  eloquence  at  the 
bar  and  in  the  pulpit,  of  the  public  taste  and  education.  The 
plan  is  yet  very  crude,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  it  will  be 
a  memoir  to  be  read  before  one  of  our  societies  or  an  inde- 
pendent work.  If  I  can  get  the  materials,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  I  can  make  a  most  entertaining  book,  whatever  its  real 
value  may  be. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  Leslie  still  lingers  in  England.  I 
should  like  to  send  him  and  Collins  a  copy  of  my  '  Historical 
Discourse,'  but  I  do  not  know  their  addresses.    I  much  fear  that 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


151 


Irving  will  loiter  about  London  for  a  long  time  and  waste  the 
most  useful  part  of  his  life  out  of  his  proper  sphere.  I  perceive 
by  your  frontispiece  to  the  new  edition  of  '  Knickerbocker,'  that 
you  have  become  an  accomplice  of  his  in  calumniating  the 
fathers  of  this  State,  of  whose  fame  I  consider  myself  the  cham- 
pion. The  new  edition,  I  learn,  is  curtailed  and  corrected,  but 
has  no  new  matter. 

"  I  am,  yours  very  truly, 

"  G.  C.  Verplanck." 

Following  is  a  brief  letter  from  Allston  to  Mr.  McMurtrie  : 

"Boston,  April  26,  1819. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  Agreeably  to  your  wishes  I  made  inquiries 

of  Mr.  respecting  the  expense  of  living  in  Italy,  and  he  says 

that  a  family  may  live  very  comfortably  in  Pisa  for  twenty-five 
hundred  dollars  per  annum  ;  in  Florence  for  less.  He  has  not 
been  in  Italy,  I  believe,  since  1816.  Probably  the  expenses 
may  be  now  somewhat  increased,  in  consequence  of  the  present 
numbers  of  English  residents.  But  the  English  now,  I  under- 
stand, live  far  less  profusely  abroad  than  formerly ;  indeed,  many 
go  abroad  to  nurse  their  fortunes.  I  do  not  remember  the  pre- 
cise sum  it  cost  me  in  Rome,  but  I  believe  it  was  somewhere  near 
three  hundred  pounds  sterling  per  annum,  though  many  that  I 
knew,  who  were  better  managers,  lived  equally  well  for  a  third 
less.  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  thanks  for  your  kind  invitation  ; 
but  I  fear  it  will  not  be  in  my  power  to  leave  Boston  for  a  year 
at  least,  on  account  of  my  engagements.  .  .  .  My  friend 
and  pupil,  Morse,  is  meeting  with  great  success  in  Charleston. 
He  is  engaged  to  paint  the  President  for  the  City  Hall. 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

' 'Washington  Allston." 


152 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Under  date  of  May  15,  1819,  Leslie  gave  Allston  a  full 
budget  of  London  art  news,  as  follows : 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  If  I  had  not  lately  heard  of  you  by  the  way 
of  Philadelphia,  I  should  be  very  uneasy  at  your  long  silence.  I 
conclude  you  must  have  written  and  your  letters  miscarried.  In 
my  sister's  last  letter  she  tells  me  Sully  has  heard  that  you  have 
taken  a  painting  room  for  three  years,  and  that  the  hospital  at 
Boston  is  going  to  have  your  large  picture  of  '  Belshazzar.'  I 
hope  this  last  may  be  true.  I  enclose  you  some  notices  of  the 
Exhibition  from  the  Examiner.  Your  picture  of  'Jacob's 
Dream '  looks  beautifully ;  it  is  in  an  excellent  situation,  at  the 
end  of  the  inner  room,  opposite  the  door,  and  in  the  centre.  It 
is  on  a  line  with  the  eye.  Collins  varnished  it,  with  the  permis- 
sion of  Lord  Egremont.  It  is  very  greatly  admired,  and  all 
your  friends  wish  you  could  see  it  there. 

"  My  '  Sir  Koger  de  Coverley  '  is  the  most  successful  picture  I 
ever  painted.  It  has  gained  me  an  introduction  to  Sir  George 
Beaumont,  with  whom  I  dined  a  day  or  two  ago.  Sir  George 
and  Lady  Beaumont  talked  a  great  deal  in  your  praise,  and 
seemed  to  regret  very  much  that  you  had  left  this  country.  Sir 
George  intends  writing  to  you.  They  are  going  to  make  a  tour 
through  Switzerland  very  soon.  The  success  of  'Sir  Pvoger' 
makes  me  hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  live  without  painting  por- 
traits. 

"  To  return  to  the  Exhibition.  Wilkie's  '  Penny  Wedding '  is, 
I  think,  the  best  picture  he  has  painted,  for  color  and  effect,  and 
equal  to  any  of  his  others  in  character  and  expression.  It  is 
painted  for  the  Prince  Regent  as  a  companion  to  his  '  Blind- 
Man's-Buff.'  Calcott's  '  Rotterdam  '  is  a  most  admirable  picture. 
I  like  him  better  than  Turner  this  year.  He  has  given,  what  is 
not  usual  for  him,  a  very  beautiful  sky,  and  has  left  out  those 
heavy,  leathery  clouds  he  used  to  be  so  fond  of. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


153 


"  Turner  has  painted  Kichmond  Hill,  and  I  think  has  not 
done  justice  to  the  scene.  In  arriving  at  splendor  of  effect  he 
seems  to  me  to  be  meretricious,  both  in  this  and  in  a  picture  of 
an  orange-ship  striking  on  a  bar.  There  are,  however,  in  them 
both  very  wonderful  things,  and  what  no  one  but  Turner  can  do. 

"  Poor  old  Mr.  West  has  been  very  ill,  and  is  now  a  little  bet- 
ter. He  was  unable  to  attend  the  dinner  at  the  Academy  this 
year,  which  I  believe  is  the  first  time  he  has  missed.  I  have  not 
seen  or  heard  of  Coleridge  or  the  Gillmans  for  a  long  time.  Ir- 
ving is  still  in  London,  and  is  at  present  in  high  spirits ;  he  has 
just  sent  off  the  third  number  of  his  work  to  America.  Hay  don 
and  Carey  have  had  a  violent  quarrel.  Carey  was  attacked  in  the 
'  Annals  of  Art,'  and  he  has  returned  the  salute  in  an  octavo  vol- 
ume, identifying  Haydon  with  the  1  Annals,'  and  exposing  the 
whole  system  of  puffing  by  which  Haydon  has  done  himself  so 
much  harm.  There  is  some  hopes  that  the  attack  will  do  him 
good.  He  has  not  answered  it,  and  there  is  a  probability  that 
he  will  lay  aside  the  pen  for  the  pencil." 

May  19,  1819,  Verplanck  wrote  from  New  York  to  Allston  as 
follows : 

"  My  Deak  Allston  :  I  have  been  intending  for  this  last  fort- 
night to  answer  your  kind  letter,  but  I  fear  you  have  communi- 
cated to  me  some  portion  of  your  spirit  of  procrastination.  You 
were  right  in  your  coDjecture  of  my  being  the  writer  of  the  para- 
graph alluding  to  your  1  Belshazzar,'  but  I  have  no  concern  with 
the  paper  in  which  it  appeared  further  than  that  one  of  the 
persons  most  interested  in  it  is  a  relation  of  mine,  so  that  I  can 
occasionally  make  use  of  the  paper  for  the  service  of  my  friends. 
I  send  you  the  article  in  question,  together  with  another  paper 
containing  a  witty  but  malicious  attack  on  our  poor  little  Acad- 
emy.   The  Exhibition,  however,  is  better  than  our  maligners 


154 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


have  anticipated,  as  you  may  judge  of  from  the  catalogue  which 
I  send  you.  I  think  the  effect  of  this  Exhibition  is  very  visible 
in  the  work  of  our  artists ;  and  in  a  city  of  this  size  a  little 
inquiry  always  enables  us  to  find  some  good  pictures  of  the  old 
masters,  or  great  foreign  artists,  which,  while  they  add  to  the 
interest  of  the  collection,  do  something  toward  forming  the  public 
taste.  It  is,  to  be  sure,  our  '  day  of  small  things,'  but  still,  ac- 
cording to  the  wise  man,  not  to  be  '  despised.' 

"  I  was  glad  to  hear  from  you  that  Irving  was  not  idle,  and  I 
have  since  been  enabled  to  judge  for  myself  how  he  has  been 
employed.  It  is  a  sort  of  a  secret,  and  if  you  are  not  in  it,  I 
must  not  betray  confidence.  As  profit  is  now  essential  to  Irving, 
I  must  bespeak  of  your  North  American  friends  the  privilege  of 
using  their  pages  in  such  a  way  as  his  friends  here  may  think 
advisable  to  promote  the  circulation  and  reputation  of  his  pro- 
duction.   Do  not,  however,  make  this  public  at  present. 

"I  hope  you  have  not  altogether  abandoned  your  plan  of 
visiting  us.  Perhaps  a  little  excursion  up  the  river  might  be  of 
use  to  the  artist  as  well  as  amusing  to  yourself  (a  distinction 
which  I  suspect  I  borrowed  from  Mr.  Puff  in  the  'Critic').  If 
anything  in  the  way  of  criticism  on  our  artists  should  appear  in 
the  papers  I  will  send  them  to  you.  The  Advocate  has  gener- 
ally something  on  the  subject,  and  pretty  well  done,  though  in  a 
censorious  spirit. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  G.  C.  Yerplanck." 

Following  are  letters  from  Sir  George  Beaumont  and  Leslie 
to  Allston,  and  from  Allston  to  McMurtrie  : 

From  Sir  George  Beaumont  to  Allston. 

"  Grosvenor  Square,  May  29,  1819. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  feel  myself  culpable  for  having  so  long 
neglected  to  thank  you  for  your  book  of  beautiful  poems,  and 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


155 


expressing  my  sincere  regret  at  your  leaving  England.  Cole- 
ridge, you  know,  has  observed,  that  every  great  and  original  poet 
must  create  the  taste  by  which  he  is  to  be  relished,  as  far  as  he 
is  great  and  original.  This  is  certainly  applicable  to  painters 
also,  and  is  necessarily  the  work  of  time.  This  state  of  probation 
you  had  passed,  and  your  value  would  soon  have  been  well  ap- 
preciated ;  it  was  therefore  an  additional  grief  to  your  friends  at 
losing  you,  that  you  should  leave  them  at  a  moment  when  they 
delighted  themselves  at  the  thought  of  seeing  your  labors  re- 
quited. 

"  Your  picture  at  the  Exhibition  looks  admirably,  and  I  have 
heard  the  Koyal  Academy  much  regret  your  absence,  and  had 
intended  to  elect  you  a  member  of  their  body,  and  indeed  would 
have  done  so  notwithstanding  your  absence,  could  they  have  re- 
ceived assurance  that  you  meant  to  return.  You  will  be  con- 
cerned to  hear  our  -valuable  and  venerable  friend  Mr.  West  was 
so  ill  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  preside  at  the  annual  dinner. 
I  saw  him  day  before  yesterday,  and  although  I  hope  he  was  bet- 
ter he  was  still  very  feeble  and  unable  to  stand.  I  believe  I  have 
frequently  expressed  to  you  my  high  opinion  of  his  merit,  and 
when  we  consider  the  state  of  art  in  this  country,  particularly  the 
time  in  which  he  has  with  such  laudable  exertion  persevered,  the 
greatest  praise  is  due  to  his  labors.  Indeed,  if  we  consider  the 
disadvantages  of  his  situation  when  he  first  turned  his  mind  to 
art,  we  must  admit  that  such  a  progress,  under  such  circum- 
stances, is  not  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  the  annals  of  painting. 
Without  anything  to  direct  his  tastes  but  a  few  paints,  the  re- 
ligion of  his  parents  inimical  to  his  pursuits,  I  believe  about  the 
age  of  twenty  he  left  America  for  Italy,  and  by  his  astonishing 
perseverance  in  about  four  or  five  years  he  produced  not  only 
the  picture  I  have,  but  many  others  of  pure  classical  merit. 
Whenever  we  lose  him  the  arts  will  experience  a  severe  and  al- 
most irreparable  loss. 


156 


WASHINGTON  ALL 8 TON 


"  Our  friend  Wordsworth  has  just  published  his  '  Peter  Bell,' 
which  has  brought  all  the  minor  wits  about  his  ears,  and  al- 
though he  seems  insensible  to  the  hum  and  venom  of  these 
gnats,  I  own  I  wish  he  would  reserve  these  small  poems,  which 
afford  such  scope  for  ridicule  and  misrepresentation  to  injure  and 
traduce  him,  for  future  publication,  whatever  their  merits  and 
beauties  may  be,  and  every  man  of  feeling  will  allow  them  to  be 
great,  and  come  forward  with  his  great  works.  Yet  I  have  no 
doubt  time  will  do  him  ample  justice,  and  although  the  good  his 
works  must  effect  sooner  or  later  is  indisputable,  yet  I  am  un- 
willing the  present  generation  should  pass  away  without  receiv- 
ing the  full  advantages  of  his  instructions,  or  he  himself  pass 
through  life  without  his  due  share  of  fame,  and  his  family  lose 
the  profits  of  his  honorable  labors.  I  send  you,  by  the  kindness 
of  your  friend  Mr.  Leslie,  a  copy  of  '  Peter  Bell.'  I  must  add 
that  Mr.  Leslie  has  obtained  great  credit  by  his  picture  of  '  The 
Spectator '  at  Sir  Boger  de  Coverley's  ;  for  character  and  expres- 
sion it  stands  very  high  indeed.  Mr.  Collins  has  introduced  me 
to  him,  and  I  find  him  a  most  interesting  young  man,  and  I  hear 
he  is  as  deserving  as  he  appears  to  be. 

"  Your  1  Jacob's  Dream '  looks  poetically  beautiful,  and  is 
highly  approved  of.  Our  friend  Collins  has  also  excelled  him- 
self in  a  coast  scene.  Lady  Beaumont  unites  with  me  in  best 
wishes,  and  cannot  help  uniting  with  them  a  hope  of  your 
speedy  return  to  England.  We  are  to  set  off  this  week  on  a 
tour  to  Switzerland,  and  if  health  is  granted  to  us  we  expect 
great  pleasure. 

"  I  hope  you  found  your  mother  well. 

"  Ever  truly  yours, 

"G.  Beaumont." 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


157 


From  Leslie  to  Allston. 

"  London,  August  6,  1819. 

"  My  Deae  Sir  :  I  received,  a  short  time  ago,  yours  of  June 
20th,  by  the  Triton,  which  gave  me  great  pleasure.  I  had  been 
delighted  some  time  before  by  the  intelligence  of  your  commis- 
sion from  the  hospital,  contained  in  your  letter  to  Collins.  In 
my  last  I  gave  you  some  account  of  the  Exhibition ;  your  picture 
looked  as  well  as  you  could  have  wished.  ...  At  the  close  of 
the  Exhibition  I  saw  it  safe  home  to  Lord  Egremont's.  He  has 
hung  it  up  in  the  large  room,  the  first  you  enter  upstairs.  I  am 
sorry  I  have  not  by  me  any  criticism  on  'Jacob's  Dream,' but  the 
one  in  the  Examiner  is  not  a  good  one.  I  regret  also  that  I  have 
no  critique  on  my  own  to  send  you.  The  Marquis  of  Lansdowne 
has  commissioned  me  to  make  a  copy  of  1  Sir  Koger '  for  him. 

"Iam  at  present  painting  a  picture  of  a  party  spending  a  day 
in  the  woods,  which  is  a  very  common  thing  with  the  people  of 
the  middle  class  in  the  summer.  They  go  out  in  a  1  shay  cart,' 
as  they  call  it,  take  their  provender  with  them,  and  choose  some 
retired  spot,  where  they  dine  and  drink  their  tea,  and  come  home 
in  the  evening.  It  affords  an  opportunity  of  painting  a  domes- 
tic group  with  rural  accompaniments.  I  lately  spent  a  fortnight 
at  Epping  Forest,  and  in  my  rambles  I  lighted  on  some  parties 
of  the  kind  I  have  described,  which  suggested  it  for  a  sub- 
ject.   .    .  . 

"You  will  have  seen,  ere  this,  the  two  first  numbers  of 
Irving's  *  Sketch-Book.'  We  have  heard  but  little  of  the  recep- 
tion of  the  first  number,  but  that  little  is  gratifying  to  himself 
and  friends.  He  is,  in  consequence,  in  very  good  spirits  about 
it.    I  wish  you  would  write  to  him. 

"  I  have  not  seen  Coleridge  or  the  Morgans  lately,  but  hope 
to  visit  them  soon.    I  have  heard  that  you  are  making  some  de- 


158 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


signs  from  Sir  Walter  Scott's  novels.  They  afford  excellent 
material,  though  the  picturesque  scenes  with  which  they  abound 
are  almost  too  highly  finished  by  the  author  to  leave  anything 
for  the  painter  to  do  but  merely  follow  him,  which  is  some  dis- 
advantage. 

"  I  send  you,  by  this  opportunity,  the  trees  by  Lewis,  and  a 
little  print  he  has  made  from  my  sketch  of  '  Chinkford  Church,' 
which  I  believe  you  did  not  see.  All  your  friends  that  I  am 
acquainted  with  speak  of  you  most  affectionately  whenever  I  see 
them,  and  desire  me  to  remember  them  when  I  write,  which  I  do 
in  a  bunch.  Poor  old  Mr.  West  has  been  feeble  for  some  time. 
I  called  on  him  to  remember  you,  as  you  desired,  and  he  ap- 
peared much  pleased  to  hear  of  your  welfare.  He  said  the 
Academy  had  never  done  a  more  proper  thing  than  electing  you 
a  member. 

"  God  bless  you,  says 

"C.  E.  Leslie." 

From  Allston  to  McMurtrie. 

"Boston,  October  30,  1819. 

"  My  Deae  Sik  :  So  far  from  having  taken  any  exception  to 
the  contents  of  the  letter  alluded  to  in  your  last,  I  felt  myself  in 
a  particular  manner  obliged  for  the  friendly  interest  you  mani- 
fested in  it  for  my  professional  success ;  and  it  was  my  inten- 
tion so  to  have  expressed  myself  in  reply,  and  I  should  have  done 
so  had  I  answered  it  when  I  ought.  But  while  I  still  beg  you  to 
believe  me  sensible  to  the  friendly  motive  which  advised  my 
sending  on  the  picture  of  •  Elijah  in  the  Wilderness '  for  exhibi- 
tion, I  cannot  avail  myself  of  the  advice.  My  reason  is  this  : 
From  all  my  experience  in  England,  both  in  my  own  case  and 
that  of  other  artists  there,  I  have  always  found  that  every  suc- 
cessive exhibition  of  a  picture  lessens  its  chance  of  selling. 
Those  who  would  perhaps  buy  a  picture  from  an  artist's  room 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


159 


while  it  is  fresh  in  their  minds  and  unseen  but  by  a  few,  are  apt 
to  look  on  it  with  indifference,  or  at  least  with  diminished  inter- 
est, when  it  becomes  the  gaze  of  the  multitude.  It  is  owing  to 
this  that  Turner,  Collins,  and  other  artists  of  the  first  rank  in 
England  still  retain  some  of  their  best  works,  though  painted 
five  or  six  years  ago. 

"  As  soon  as  I  accomplish  anything  of  sufficient  importance 
to  describe  to  you,  I  will  send  you  some  account  of  it.  .  .  . 
Want  of  funds  has  in  some  degree  retarded  me,  but  I  have  got 
agoing  again,  and  shall  soon  proceed  with  1  Belshazzar.'  Have 
you  any  news  in  the  way  of  arts  ? 

"  I  remain,  dear  sir,  with  sincere  regard, 
"  Yours  truly, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

From  Allston  to  Leslie. 

11  Boston,  November  15,  1819. 

"  Dear  Leslie  : 

"  Your  letter  by  the  London  packet,  together  with  the 
prints,  has  been  received.  Tell  Frank  Collins  I  feel  greatly 
obliged  to  him  for  hunting  up  the  admirable  print  of  Lieven's 
*  Lazarus,'  which  I  value  more  than  I  should  twenty  of  Lebrun's 
battles,  fine  as  they  are.  Pray  say  to  him  that  when  he  has  col- 
lected for  me  to  the  amount  of  ten  pounds,  I  wish  him  to  stop, 
until  I  shall  be  a  little  more  in  cash,  when  I  will  write  to  request 
him  to  proceed.  Thank  him  also  for  the  present  of  his  brother's 
print  of  the  sea-coast ;  I  am  glad  to  have  such  a  remembrance  of 
the  picture,  and  accept  yourself  my  thanks  for  the  print  of  your 
church.    I  like  it  exceedingly. 

"  The  critiques  on  your  '  Sir  Koger '  and  my  '  Jacob,'  from 
the  New  Monthly  Magazine,  were  republished  here  before  I  got 


160 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


the  Magazine  you  sent.  I  find,  as  I  supposed,  they  were  written 
by  Mr.  Carey,  indeed  I  thought  they  must  have  been  by  him,  as 
there  is  not  one  of  the  London  picture  critics  who  could  have 
done  them  half  so  well.  Pray  present  him  my  best  thanks  for  it. 
He  has  described  your  picture  so  well  that  I  could  almost  copy 
it  from  the  description.  I  heartily  congratulate  you  on  its  sue-  ' 
cess,  and  hope  that  it  may  prove  a  trusty  pioneer  for  you  to  fame 
and  fortune.  The  last,  however,  is  only  dreamt  of  by  young 
painters;  a  dream  which  becomes  dimmer  and  dimmer  as  we 
advance  in  life.  But  no  matter,  the  art  itself  has  so  much  in- 
trinsic pleasures  for  its  votaries  that  we  ought  to  be  satisfied  if 
to  that  is  added  but  enough  of  the  Mammon  to  make  the  ends 
of  the  year  meet.  Indeed  I  often  think,  with  Collins,  that  if  a 
painter  who  really  loved  his  art  had,  together  with  fame,  as  much 
wealth  as  he  wished,  he  would  be  too  happy  in  this  world  ever 
to  be  in  a  suitable  state  of  mind  to  leave  it.  I  hope,  notwith- 
standing, that  Collins  is  getting  money  so  as  to  lay  up  something 
at  the  end  of  each  year ;  for  a  little  more  than  we  have,  I  trust, 
would  do  neither  of  us  any  harm,  but  everything  is  for  the  best 
so  we  do  our  duty  to  Heaven.  Tell  him  I  think  and  talk  a  great 
deal  about  him  (as  I  do  also  about  you),  talk  to  those  whom  he 
has  never  seen,  but  who  in  feeling  an  interest  in  all  I  love  and 
esteem,  require  not  the  aid  of  sight  to  admit  him  and  you  among 
the  number  of  their  friends. 

"  How  mysterious,  when  we  ponder  over  it,  is  this  communica- 
tion by  words,  and  how  real  and  distinct  an  image  do  they  create 
in  our  minds  of  objects  far  removed,  even  of  those  long  buried  in 
the  grave,  over  which  centuries  have  passed.  Indeed  so  familiar 
is  the  image  of  Sir  Joshua  to  me,  his  manners,  habits,  modes  of 
thinking,  and  even  of  speaking,  created  by  the  description  of 
him,  that  I  feel  almost  persuaded  at  times  I  had  actually  been 
acquainted  with  him.  What  a  world  is  that  of  thought !  And 
what  a  world  does  he  possess  whose  thoughts  are  only  of  the 


Unfinished  Portrait  of  Allston  by  Himself  when  a 
Young  Man. 

In  the  possession  of  R  Charlotte  Dana,  of  Boston. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


161 


beautiful,  the  pure,  and  holy.  How  fearful  then  is  his  where  the 
vindictive  and  base  and  sensual  make  the  sum.  1  As  the  tree 
falleth,  so  shall  it  lie.'    .    .  . 

"  I  write  without  order  whatever  comes  uppermost,  and  con- 
sequently have  left  myself  too  little  room  to  tell  you  all  I  wished. 
I  have  painted  a  small  picture  from  Spenser,  and  a  head  of  Bea- 
trice, both  just  sold.  I  shall  soon  proceed  with  the  '  Belshazzar,' 
then  the  hospital  picture,  and  no  more  small  pictures.  Morse 
has  spent  the  summer  here,  and  has  just  finished  a  large  whole- 
length  portrait  of  a  beautiful  girl  wandering  amid  the  ruins  of  a 
Gothic  abbey.  'Tis  well  drawn,  composed,  and  colored,  and 
would  make  a  figure  even  at  Somerset  House.  I  always  thought 
he  had  a  great  deal  in  him,  if  he  would  only  bring  it  out  by  ap- 
plication, which  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  he  at  length  has  ac- 
quired. Circumstances  made  him  industrious,  and  being  con- 
tinued, his  industry  has  grown  a  habit.  He  leaves  town  this 
week  for  Washington,  where  he  is  to  paint  a  whole-length  of  the 
President  for  the  City  Hall,  Charleston. 

"  I  have  written  to  Mr.  Howard,  the  Secretary  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  enclosing  to  him  a  paper  he  sent  me  for  my  signature, 
and  have  requested  him  to  deliver  my  diploma  to  you,  which  I 
will  thank  you  to  have  put  into  a  deal  box,  and  to  deliver  to  Cap- 
tain Tracy,  to  bring  out  to  me  when  he  returns.  Tell  me  all 
about  the  artists.  What  is  Welles  doing  ?  Give  my  best  and 
most  affectionate  regards  to  Irving,  and  tell  him  I  will  write  by 
the  next  opportunity.  His  'Sketch-Book'  is  greatly  admired 
here.  I  like  all  the  articles.  Above  all  give  my  regards  to  Mr. 
West,  to  whom  I  have  written  a  note  enclosed  to  Mr.  Howard. 

"  God  bless  you,  yours  ever, 

Washington  Allston." 

11 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 


LETTERS  OF  1820  TO  1824  FROM  ALLSTON  AND  LESLIE. 

Interesting  reference  to  Allston's  work  during  the  years  from 
1820  to  1824  will  be  found  in  the  following  letters : 

From  C.  B.  Leslie  to  Allston. 

"London,  March  3,  1820. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  : 

"  Since  my  return  I  have  painted  a  copy  of  '  Sir  Eoger '  for 
Lord  Lansdowne,  and  am  now  engaged  on  a  picture  of  a  citizen 
and  his  family  'gypsying  '  (as  it  is  called),  or  spending  a  day  in 
the  woods  in  the  manner  of  gypsys.  It  contains  eight  figures, 
and  I  hope  to  complete  it  for  Somerset  House. 

"  Martin  has  painted  a  picture  of  Macbeth  and  Banquo  meet- 
ing the  witches  on  the  blasted  heath  ;  it  is  as  usual  tremendously 
grand.  He  is  now  employed  on  your  subject  of  '  Belshazzar,'  mak- 
ing it  an  architectural  composition  with  small  figures,  the  writ- 
ing on  the  wall  to  be  about  a  mile  long.  Willes  has  very  much 
improved ;  he  made  his  debut  this  year  at  the  Gallery  with  his 
picture  of  'Danger,'  from  Collins's  poem.  It  looks  extremely 
well  there.  He  will  exhibit  a  large  landscape  at  the  Academy, 
which  I  think  will  do  him  great  credit. 

"My  sister  sent  me,  some  time  ago,  a  paragraph  from  a  news- 
paper containing  an  extremely  well-written  description  of  your 
picture  '  Florimel.'  It  brought  it  completed  before  my  eyes.  I 
am  sure  such  a  subject  treated  in  your  way  must  make  an  ex- 
quisite picture. 

"  The  Gallery  is  now  open,  and  except  in  the  landscape  de- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


163 


partment  I  think  it  one  of  the  best  exhibitions  I  have  seen. 
Newton  has  there  a  beautiful  little  picture  of  an  old  man  reading 
some  dull  book  to  a  young  girl,  without  perceiving  that  she  is 
fast  asleep.  The  corner  of  a  love-letter  emerging  from  her  bod- 
ice speaks  for  itself.  It  was  purchased  almost  immediately  by 
a  Mr.  Chamberlain,  a  perfect  stranger  to  Newton.  Wilkie's  pict- 
ure of  the  1  Interior  of  a  Highland  Whiskey  Still '  is  very  fine. 
The  master  of  the  place,  an  old  fellow  of  herculean  make  and 
somewhat  corpulent,  with  his  kilt  and  bonnet,  and  a  brace  of 
pistols  in  his  belt,  is  criticising  a  glass  of  the  spirits,  which  he 
holds  between  him  and  the  light,  half  closing  one  of  his  keen 
eyes  and  smacking  his  lips  with  the  air  of  a  perfect  connoisseur ; 
it  is,  I  think,  one  of  Wilkie's  happiest  efforts. 

"  Young  Landseer's  picture  of  the  two  dogs  scratching  a  man 
out  of  the  snow  is  the  most  interesting  animal  picture  I  ever 
saw.  One  is  licking  the  hand  of  the  man  (who  appears  to  be 
dead  or  almost  so)  as  if  to  assure  him  that  help  is  near,  while 
the  other  is  barking  or  howling  for  assistance ;  in  the  distance 
are  seen  the  monks  of  St.  Bernard  making  their  way  toward  the 
sound.  Cooper  has  some  exquisite  little  battle  pictures.  Collins 
has  nothing  this  year.  The  little  picture  I  sent  of  1  Contempla- 
tion '  is  a  female  figure  with  a  moonlight  effect,  which  I  began 
for  Juliet,  but  not  thinking  when  it  was  finished  that  it  expressed 
her  character  I  gave  it  another  name. 

"  Captain  Tracy  has  given  us  a  gleam  of  hope  that  we  may 
see  you  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  though  only  for  a  short 
time.  The  months  of  May,  June,  and  July  are,  in  my  opinion, 
worth  all  the  rest  of  the  year  in  London,  and  there  is  every  sea- 
son some  additional  exhibition  of  pictures  open.  There  will, 
this  season,  be  at  least  five  principal  private  galleries  open. 
Haydon's  picture  is  completed  and  will  be  exhibited  at  Bullock's 
rooms  in  Piccadilly.  The  weather,  you  know,  is  always  delight- 
ful at  that  time  of  the  year.    I  am  sure,  if  you  can  accomplish  it. 


164 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


that  a  visit,  if  only  for  the  season,  to  London  will  do  you  great 
good,  and  that  you  will  paint  the  quicker  and  better  for  it.  I 
hope  I  need  not  say  what  delight  it  would  be  sure  to  give  num- 
bers of  your  friends  besides  myself.  There  is  one  thing,  at  all 
events,  I  think  you  might  do,  and  that  is,  if  it  is  quite  impossible 
for  you  to  come  yourself,  at  least  send  us  a  picture,  which  I 
should  think  you  might  borrow  from  some  of  your  purchasers 
for  the  next  Exhibition.  The  voyages  are  now  performed  with 
so  much  certainty  that  there  can  be  little  risk  either  in  your  bor- 
rowing or  the  owner's  lending  one  for  that  purpose.  You  are 
now  sure  of  a  good  situation  at  the  Academy,  and  I  think  it  will 
facilitate  your  being  made  an  E.  A.  Let  it  be  something  strik- 
ing, and  the  larger  the  better.  I  hope  you  will  come  and  bring 
it  with  you.  If  you  should  be  obliged  to  return  again  before  the 
Exhibition,  you  may  depend  on  my  taking  every  care  of  it,  or  in 
case  of  my  absence,  which  is  not  likely  to  occur,  Collins,  I  am 
sure,  will  attend  to  it. 

"  Collins,  Lonsdale,  etc.,  are  all  well,  and  all  desire  to  be  re- 
membered to  you.  Irving  has  published  four  numbers  of  the 
'  Sketch-Book,'  with  every  chance  of  success  as  soon  as  it  be- 
comes known,  which  you  know  cannot  happen  all  at  once  here. 
There  have  been  two  most  favorable  notices  of  it,  with  long  ex- 
tracts, in  BlackivoooVs  and  the  New  London  Magazine.  He  is 
at  present  in  Birmingham,  on  a  visit  to  his  sister.    .    .  . 

"  I  think  your  patience  must  by  this  time  be  pretty  well  ex- 
hausted by  all  this  chit-chat,  which  I  have  run  into  in  the  hope 
that  you  may  pick  out  of  it  something  to  interest  or  amuse.  Be 
it  as  it  may,  all  I  ask  is  ample  payment  in  my  own  coin,  and  so 
farewell,  my  dear  sir,  till  next  time,  till  when, 

"  Yours  as  ever, 

"  C.  E.  Leslie. 

"  Mr.  Yisger  is  much  pleased  with  your  '  Hermia  and  Helena/ 
It  hangs  in  his  drawing-room,  Portland  Square,  Bristol." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


165 


From  Allston  to  Leslie, 

lk  Boston,  May  20, 1821. 

"  Deak  Leslie  :  So  many  things  must  have  been  done  in  the 
Art  since  you  last  wrote,  that  I  begin  to  feel  not  a  little  impa- 
tient for  some  account  of  them  ;  but  as  I  have  so  long  owed  you 
a  letter,  I  have  no  right  to  expect  one  from  you  till  I  pay  my 
debts  ;  so  I  must  e'en,  lazy  as  I  am,  write  to  you. 

"  Of  you  and  Newton  I  occasionally  hear  from  such  of  our 
countrymen  as  have  met  you  in  London ;  but  they  seldom  give 
any  distinct  account  of  what  either  of  you  are  doing;  of  which, 
however,  the  newspapers  sometimes  speak,  after  their  manner, 
with  more  conceit  of  their  own  judgment  than  distinctness  in 
their  criticism.  The  last  account  which  I  have  seen  of  you  in 
the  latter  was  of  your  '  Gypsy ing  Party,'  which  was  almost  a 
year  back.  I  am  pleased  to  find  that  Newton's  last  picture,  1  The 
Importunate  Author,'  from  Moliere,  was  so  generally  admired.  I 
can  have  little  notion  of  the  picture,  it  being  a  branch  of  art  he 
has  engaged  in  since  I  left  London.  But  from  the  variety  of 
notices,  and  all  favorable,  which  I  have  seen  of  it,  I  conclude  it 
must  have  been  generally  liked  by  the  artists,  from  whom  the 
newspaper  critics,  especially  when  they  agree  in  praising,  always 
take  their  tone.  By  the  by,  have  you  seen  a  criticism  on  Hay- 
don's  4  Entrance  of  our  Saviour  into  Jerusalem,'  in  an  article  on  the 
1  State  of  the  Arts  in  England,'  in  a  late  number  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Revicio  ?  The  praise  it  gives,  I  think  just,  but  cannot 
say  the  same  of  all  the  censure ;  one  point,  however,  in  the  latter 
seems  well  founded — the  want  of  those  subtle  niceties  and  in- 
flections in  the  outlines  which  make  so  great  a  part  of  the  charm 
in  some  of  the  old  masters ;  it  was  what  I  always  felt  the  want  of 
in  nearly  all  the  pictures  of  modern  date.  With  respect  to  the 
rest  of  the  review,  it  is  but  little  better  than  a  gross  libel  on 
the  English  school.    The  speculations  of  the  writer  seem  to  be 


166 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


those  of  a  man  who,  in  hunting  after  originality,  runs  down  a 
common  thought  till  it  falls  to  pieces,  then  putting  it  again  to- 
gether, and  by  stitching  on  the  head  where  the  tail  was,  is  as- 
tonished to  find  what  an  extraordinary  animal  he  has  been 
chasing.  It  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  a  writer  to  think  of  his  own 
cleverness  when  he  is  engaged  in  the  cause  of  truth ;  the  interest 
of  the  cause  is  too  apt  to  become  subordinate  to  the  eclat  of  the 
pleader's  wit. 

"  But  it  is  time  that  I  say  something  of  myself.  Various  cir- 
cumstances have  prevented  me  from  recommencing  with  '  Bel- 
shazzar '  till  last  September,  since  which  I  have,  with  one  inter- 
ruption, been  constantly  at  work  on  it.  On  seeing  it  at  a  greater 
distance  in  my  present  room,  I  found  I  had  got  my  point  of  dis- 
tance too  near,  and  the  point  of  sight  too  high.  It  was  a  sore  task 
to  change  the  perspective  in  so  large  a  picture ;  but  I  had  the 
courage  to  do  it,  and  by  lowering  the  latter  and  increasing  the 
former  I  find  the  effect  increased  a  hundredfold.  I  have  spared 
no  labor  to  get  everything  that  came  within  the  laws  of  perspec- 
tive correct,  even  the  very  banisters  in  the  gallery  are  put  in 
by  rule.  Now  it  is  over  I  do  not  regret  the  toil,  for  it  has 
given  me  a  deeper  knowledge  of  perspective  than  I  ever  had  be- 
fore, for  I  could  not  do  that  and  many  other  things  in  the  pict- 
ure, which  are  seen  from  below,  without  pretty  hard  fagging  at 
the  '  Jesuit.'  *  I  have,  besides,  made  several  changes  in  the  com- 
position, which  are  for  the  better,  such  as  introducing  two  enor- 
mous flights  of  steps,  beyond  the  table,  leading  up  to  an  inner 
apartment.  These  steps  are  supposed  to  extend  wholly  across 
the  hall,  and  the  first  landing-place  is  crowded  with  figures, 
which  being  just  discoverable  in  the  dark  have  a  powerful  effect 
on  the  imagination.  I  suppose  them  to  be  principally  Jews,  ex- 
ulting in  the  overthrow  of  the  idols  and  their  own  restoration,  as 
prophesied  by  Jeremiah,  Isaiah,  and  others,  which  I  think  their 

*  A  standard  work  on  perspective. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


167 


action  sufficiently  explains.  The  gallery,  too,  is  also  crowded, 
the  figures  there  foreshortened  as  they  would  appear  seen  from 
below. 

"  I  have  written  to  Collins  by  this  opportunity,  and  given 
him  a  list  of  what  I  have  done  since  I  have  been  here.  Among 
the  pictures  mentioned  I  consider  '  Jeremiah '  and  *  Miriam 
the  Prophetess '  the  best  I  have  done  here ;  the  last,  I  think,  is 
one  of  the  best  I  have  ever  painted,  in  the  back  of  which  is  seen 
the  shore  of  the  Ked  Sea,  and  on  it  the  wreck  of  Pharaoh's 
army.    .    .  . 

"  I  have  a  piece  of  news  for  you — no  less  than  that  I  am  en- 
gaged to  be  married.  The  finishing  of  '  Belshazzar '  is  all  I  wait 
for  to  be  once  more  a  happy  husband. 

"  Believe  me,  affectionately  your  friend, 

"  W.  AliLSTON." 

From  Leslie  to  Allston. 

"London,  August  20,  1821. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  received  your  letter  of  May  20th  some 
time  ago  and  ought  to  have  answered  it  earlier.  I  was  not  stand- 
ing on  ceremony  before  I  received  it,  for  my  friends  here  would 
witness  for  me  that  I  have  talked  of  writing  to  you  constantly 
for  the  last  six  months.    Have  at  you  then,  without  more  words. 

"  I  had  heard,  some  time  before  I  received  your  comfirmation 
of  it,  the  report  of  your  intended  marriage,  and  also  the  lady's 
name,  which,  by  the  bye,  you  do  not  mention.  I  am  exceed- 
ingly anxious  to  hear  more  about  her.  Why  did  you  not  give 
me  a  description  of  her  in  your  letter  ?  From  her  having  such 
a  brother  as  I  have  often  heard  you  describe  Mr.  Dana  to  be, 
and  from  the  husband  she  is  to  have,  I  cannot  but  infer  the  lady 
to  be  very  superlative.  I  hope,  however,  you  will  give  me  a 
particular  description  of  her  in  your  next. 

"  I  am  sure  the  alterations  you  have  made  in  your  '  Belshaz- 


168 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


zar '  must  have  improved  it.  A  low  point  of  sight  is  certainly 
essential  to  a  large  picture  which  must  necessarily  be  hung 
above  the  eye  of  the  spectator.  The  reverse  is  very  injurious  to 
the  effect  of  Kaphael's  cartoons.  I  wish  very  much  some  of 
your  late  pictures  could  find  their  way  here.  The  Academy  I 
believe  are  a  little  disappointed  that  you  have  sent  them  noth- 
ing since  your  election.  Could  not  some  of  those  you  have  sold 
be  borrowed  for  the  purpose?  There  would  be  scarcely  any  risk 
in  it.  You  are  remembered  here  with  the  greatest  admiration 
by  everybody  acquainted  with  art,  and  your  particular  friends 
are  all  anxious  that  you  should  keep  such  recollections  alive. 
For  myself  I  feel  every  day  more  and  more  what  I  have  lost  in 
you,  and  I  feed  myself  with  the  hope  that  you  will  one  day  re- 
turn to  England.  I  have  little  prospect  at  present  of  going  to 
America. 

"You  naturally  wish  to  rouse  me  to  do  something  in  the  style 
of  art  you  are  fondest  of,  but  I  believe  I  must  for  the  present 
be  contented  with  a  humbler  sphere.  My  inclinations  lead  me 
to  subjects  of  familiar  life  and  manners,  and  what  I  have  done  in 
that  way  has  been  more  successful  than  anything  else.  My  last 
picture  was  'May-Day  in  the  Reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,'  which  is 
in  some  respects  an  antiquarian  picture,  as  I  took  pains  to  adhere 
as  closely  as  possible  to  the  costume  and  manners  of  the  time. 
It  contains  more  figures  than  anything  I  have  painted.  I  have 
sold  it  for  two  hundred  guineas.  I  have  been  lately  studying 
the  Dutch  school  a  good  deal,  and  find  my  fondness  for  those 
admirable  matter-of-fact  painters  increase  in  proportion  to  my 
acquaintance  with  them. 

"  The  Exhibition  this  year  was  considered  a  very  good  one, 
though  there  was  nothing  of  any  importance  in  the  historic  class, 
excepting  Allan's  'Death  of  Archbishop  Sharpe.'  This  picture, 
like  all  of  his,  was  full  of  powerful  and  natural  expression. 
"What  struck  me  as  its  principal  fault  was  a  family  likeness  in 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


169 


some  of  the  heads,  as  if  he  had  used  the  same  model  too  fre- 
quently. Wilkie  had  two  small  pictures.  The  one  I  liked  best 
was  an  interior  of  a  cottage  in  which  was  a  young  man  writing  a 
letter  to  his  sweetheart,  who  was  coming  in  unexpectedly  behind 
him  and  blinding  his  eyes  with  her  hands.  He  called  it  '  Guess 
my  Name.'  The  expression  was  excellent,  and  the  light  and 
shadow  quite  magical,  but  the  color  of  the  flesh  was  very  yellow 
and  leathery,  a  fault  he  has  got  into  in  his  late  pictures.  His 
other  picture  I  did  not  like  so  well.  It  consisted  of  a  group  of 
figures,  the  principal  of  which  was  a  baker  with  a  roast  shoulder 
of  mutton  on  a  tray  on  his  head,  listening  to  a  young  girl  who 
was  seated  on  a  stile  reading  a  newspaper.  It  appeared  that  in 
aiming  to  get  light  in  the  picture  he  had  run  into  the  error  that 
Sir  George  Beaumont  complains  is  so  common  in  the  English 
school,  of  mistaking  whiteness  for  brightness.  Mulready  had  a 
picture  of  a  boy  who  had  been  sent  on  an  errand  and  had  stopped 
by  the  way  to  play  marbles,  having  set  down  a  young  child  and 
a  pound  of  candles  in  the  sun.  A  servant  girl  had  detected  and 
was  just  about  to  give  him  a  thrashing.  Parts  of  it  were  very 
fine,  but  as  a  whole  I  did  not  like  it  so  well  as  his  last  picture. 
Lawrence  quite  surpassed  himself  this  year.  He  sent  the  whole 
length  of  Mr.  West,  which  he  has  painted  for  the  New  York 
Academy.  The  head  of  it  I  think  the  finest  thing  he  ever 
painted.  Collins  had  three  very  fine  pictures.  One,  a  beautiful 
thing,  of  children  fishing,  with  a  mountainous  background.  By 
the  bye,  he  was  much  delighted  at  receiving  your  letter,  which  I 
suppose  he  has  answered  by  this  time.  He  is  now  in  the  north 
of  Devonshire.  Newton's  picture  of  1  The  Importunate  Author  1 
was  very  successful.  The  story  was  most  happily  told,  and  with 
great  delicacy  of  humor.  An  author  (not  a  poor  threadbare  one, 
but  a  man  of  fashion,  by  dress  and  appearance)  had  got  hold  of 
a  young  nobleman  by  the  arm,  and  was  reading  with  great  ap- 
pearance of  self-satisfaction  a  huge  manuscript,  while  the  gallant 


170 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


was  secretly  looking  at  his  watch  as  if  he  had  some  appointment 
which  he  was  anxious  to  keep,  and  yet  was  too  polite  to  interrupt 
the  poet.  The  dresses  were  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  the 
scene  on  the  terrace  in  an  old-fashioned  French  garden.  He 
sold  it  to  Mr.  Hope,  and  has  painted  a  duplicate  of  it  for  the 
Earl  of  Carlisle,  and  is  to  make  another  copy  for  Mr.  Murray 
the  bookseller.  Newton  has  another  picture  which  I  think  will 
surpass  it.  It  is  a  quarrel  between  fashionable  lovers.  They 
are  returning  miniatures,  presents,  etc.,  while  the  lady's-maid  is 
standing  behind  the  chair  of  her  mistress  looking  at  them.  It 
is  the  same  costume  as  the  other,  and  the  effect  of  color  is  very 
beautiful. 

"Irving  has  returned  to  London  and  is  preparing  another 
book  for  the  press.  His  '  Sketch-Book'  has  made  him  one  of 
the  most  popular  authors  of  the  day.  Coleridge  and  the  Gill- 
mans  were  very  glad  to  hear  that  I  had  got  a  letter  from  you, 
they  talk  about  you  very  much,  whenever  I  see  them,  which  I  am 
sorry  to  say  is  not  very  often.  Haydon  has  been  exhibiting  a 
small  picture  (for  him)  of  '  Our  Saviour  in  the  Garden,'  which  is 
the  worst  thing  he  has  painted.  He  is  going  on  with  the  '  Kaising 
of  Lazarus.'  Mr.  West's  sons  have  built  a  magnificent  gallery 
in  Newman  Street,  and  are  exhibiting  there  the  principal  large 
pictures  of  their  father.  Martin's  picture  of  your  subject,  '  Bel- 
shazzar,'  made  more  noise  among  the  mass  of  people  than  any 
picture  that  has  been  exhibited  since  I  have  been  here.  The 
artists,  however,  and  connoisseurs  did  not  like  it  much.  It  was 
first  exhibited  at  the  Gallery,  and  drew  such  crowds  that  they 
kept  it  open  a  fortnight  longer  than  usual  solely  on  account 
of  that  picture,  and  the  picture  was  bought  for  eight  hundred 
guineas  by  a  speculator,  who  immediately  opened  an  exhibition 
of  it  himself  and  has  made  a  great  deal  of  money  by  it. 

"  Newton,  Irving,  Willes,  Martin,  etc.,  all  desire  me  to  remem- 
ber them  affectionately  to  you  when  I  write.    Mrs.  Bridgen's 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


171 


family  all  beg  to  be  remembered,  not  omitting  Betsy,  who  often 
tells  me  I  am  not  half  as  good  as  Mr.  Allston ;  indeed  she  de- 
spairs of  ever  seeing  so  nice  a  man  again. 

"  Farewell,  my  dear  sir,  and  may  heaven  bless  and  prosper 
you  in  all  your  undertakings  is  the  sincere  wish  of, 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"  C.  E.  Leslie." 

From  Allston  to  Leslie.  (Extract.) 

"  Boston,  September  7,  1821. 
"  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart  on  the  success  of  your 
picture  'May-Day.'  The  story  that  we  have  here  is  that  you 
sold  it  for  three  hundred  guineas,  and  Mr.  Sully,  who  is  now  in 
Boston,  says  it  is  true.  I  have  seen  some  account  of  it  in  the 
newspapers ;  the  Examiner,  however,  is  the  only  English  one  I 
have  met  with.  I  could  have  wished  to  have  seen  a  description 
from  a  more  discriminating  critic.  I  shall  not  forgive  you  if  you 
do  not  give  me  the  1  whole  history '  of  it.  Tell  me  all  that  the 
artists  have  said  of  it,  and  others  out  of  the  art  whose  opinion  is 
of  value.  After  your  exit,  let  the  next  who  enters  for  my  enter- 
tainment be  Collins,  and  Newton,  and  Ward's  great  picture,  and 
Martin  and  Willes — you  must  have  by  this  time  a  vast  deal  to 
tell  me  about  them  all.  By  the  bye,  I  saw  an  account  of  Martin's 
*  Belshazzar '  in  BlackivoooVs  Magazine,  which  I  read  with  great 
delight,  and  the  more  so  when  it  was  added  to  the  description 
that  he  had  not  only  received  two  hundred  guineas  premium 
from  the  British  Institution,  but  sold  it  afterward  for  eight  hun- 
dred. I  suppose  he  would  not  paint  fans  now  unless  the  sticks 
were  made  of  gold.  It  is  very  delightful  to  hear  of  such  success 
of  those  who  really  deserve  it,  and  especially  when  they  happen 
to  be  those  whom  we  also  esteem  as  men.  Tell  Martin  I  would 
get  up  before  sunrise  and  walk  twenty  miles  to  see  his  picture, 
which  is  saying  a  great  deal  for  me,  who  have  seen  the  sun  rise 


172 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


about  as  often  as  Falstaff  saw  his  knees,  and  who  had  almost 
rather  stand  an  hour  on  my  head  than  walk  a  mile. 

"  As  I  have  given  either  you  or  Collins,  when  I  wrote  by 
Captain  Tracy,  a  full  account  of  what  I  have  done,  I  shall  not  say 
any  more  on  the  subject  at  present,  except  that  I  am  still  hard 
at  work  on  '  Belshazzar,'  and  shall  so  continue  until  it  is  com- 
plete." 

From  Allston  to  Leslie. 

"Boston,  May  8, 1822. 
"  Dear  Leslie  :  Accept  my  thanks  for  your  print  of  '  Sir 
Roger,'  which  I  think  admirable.  The  principal  group  is,  I 
think,  the  best ;  Sir  Roger's  character  seems  to  be  exactly  hit — 
and  the  widow  and  her  children  are  just  the  kind  of  objects  to  call 
forth  the  good  knight's  kindness  of  nature ;  next  is  the  old  maid, 
then  the  old  man  and  his  daughter — though  I  do  not  know 
whether  I  don't  prefer  to  the  former  the  little  old  woman  a  little 
beyond  him ;  perhaps  because  she  seems  more  completely  than 
the  rest  to  belong  to  the  last  century.  I  am  pleased  also  with 
the  landscape,  the  church  and  effect,  in  short,  I  am  delighted 
with  the  whole. 

«••••••• 

"  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart  upon  your  election 
into  the  Academy.  As  to  my  becoming  an  R.  A.,  I  fear,  as  you 
say,  that  it  is  hopeless  so  long  as  I  continue  on  this  side  of  the 
water,  and,  though  I  still  hope  to  revisit  England,  it  is  very  un- 
certain when.  Sometime  next  year,  however,  if  possible,  I  will 
paint  a  picture  expressly  for  Somerset  House,  as  I  would  not  be 
thought  unmindful  of  an  institution  in  which  I  feel  so  strong  an 
interest.  By  the  bye,  I  cannot  help  thinking  the  law  that  ex- 
cludes foreigners  or  artists  residing  in  a  foreign  country  from  the 
honor  of  membership  a  very  narrow  one.  No  other  Academy 
has  such  a  law.    The  art  belongs  to  no  country.    I  hope  the  day 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


173 


will  come  when  that  law  will  be  expunged,  for  I  see  not  any  good 
purpose  it  can  effect.  But  don't  think  I  feel  sore  under  it,  I  as- 
sure you  I  do  not. 

"  I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  see  Etty's  '  Cleopatra ; '  you  and 
Willes  have  quite  made  my  eyes  water  with  your  descriptions  of 
its  splendor.  I  remember  his  former  works  well.  They  gener- 
ally struck  me  as  falling  short  of  the  mark ;  but  nevertheless  I 
used  to  think  that  his  mark  was  a  good  one  ;  he  appeared  to  be  in 
the  right  road,  though  he  travelled  slowly.  Ah,  the  old  masters, 
after  all,  are  the  only  masters  to  make  a  great  artist ;  I  mean  an 
original  one.  For  I  have  rarely  seen  an  artist  who  neglected  them 
that  did  not  imitate  his  contemporaries,  and  often,  too,  while  he 
was  deluding  himself  with  the  thought  that  he  was  confining  his 
study  to  nature.  When  I  think  thus  of  the  old  masters,  'tis  only 
of  their  language,  not  their  thoughts.  I  would  not  have  the  latter 
derived  from  any  source  but  nature. 

"  We  have  just  heard  of  the  arrival  of  Irving's  1  Bracebridge 
Hall.'  I  promise  myself  infinite  pleasure  from  it.  The  public 
here  are  all  agog  for  it.  Irving  well  deserves  all  his  popularity. 
If  I  find  a  subject  in  it  for  a  picture,  I  will  make  a  draw  ing  and 
send  it  to  him." 

From  AUston  to  Leslie.  (Extract.) 

"  Boston,  July  23,  1822. 
"  When  I  tell  you  that  I  am  still  fagging  at  1  Belshazzar '  I 
believe  I  shall  have  told  you  all.  I  hope  to  finish  in  three  months 
more.  That  done  I  must  think  of  painting  something  to  send  to 
the  Royal  Academy — yet  it  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  be  able  to 
finish  anything  in  time  for  the  next  Exhibition. 

"  Tell  Irving  that  I  am  delighted  with  his  1  Bracebridge  Hall,' 
that  is,  the  first  volume,  for  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  second.  Every 


174 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


individual  of  the  family  is  as  well  drawn  as  could  be,  and  I  felt 
as  if  I  had  been  reading  of  real  people.  The  '  Stout  Gentleman ' 
is  exquisite.  I  felt  every  drop  of  rain  in  it  and  could  smell  even 
the  stable-yard ;  but  I  was  sorry  he  introduced  anything  like  a 
double  entendre.  I  allude  to  the  landlady's  visit  to  the  '  Stout 
Gentleman's  '  chamber.  Perhaps  he  did  not  mean  anything  more 
than  a  kiss  to  have  been  given,  but  some  readers  would  not  be 
satisfied  with  a  kiss.  Remember  me  to  him  affectionately.  I 
liked  also  the  '  Student  of  Salamanca.'  The  procession  of  the  in- 
quisitors with  their  victim  to  the  stake  is  terrific.  Nothing  could 
be  finer  than  the  description  of  the  prisoners  and  the  effect  of  the 
whole  scene  on  the  multitude ;  they  meet  the  eye  with  a  horrible 
breadth." 

From  Allston  to  Leslie.  (Extract.) 

"  Boston,  February  7,  1823. 
"  Dear  Leslie  :  I  received  sometime  since  a  case  containing 
Wilkie's  '  Blind-Man's-Buff,' < The  Rabbit  on  the  Wall,'  and  Allan's 
'  Circassians,'  together  with  several  smaller  prints  from  your  de- 
signs from  1  Knickerbocker '  and  the  *  Sketch-Book.'  There  was 
no  note  or  letter  accompanying  them,  but  I  concluded  that  they 
were  from  you  and  for  Judge  Jackson ;  so  I  accordingly  delivered 
them  to  him,  all  excepting  one  of  the  duplicates  from  my  design 
of  '  Wouter  van  Twiller,'  which  I  supposed  you  intended  for  me. 

"  I  was  exceedingly  pleased  with  your  designs  from  '  Knicker- 
bocker' and  the  Sketch-Book.'  They  and  ' Sir  Roger'  show 
what  a  stride  you  have  made  in  chiaro-oscuro  and  other  matters. 
The  best,  I  think,  is  '  Rip  van  Winkle  '  mounting  the  hill  with 
the  ghostly  Dutchman.  Rip's  nether  jaw  hangs  ominously,  and 
his  dog  has  a  true  eye  for  a  ghost.  'Tis  equal  to  the  story,  which 
is  saying  a  great  deal.  The  next  best  is  '  Ichabod  Crane  and 
Katrina,'  which  is  exquisite;  then  the  'Van  Corlear's  Leave- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


175 


taking ; '  but  they  are  all  good.  I  was  also  pleased  with  the  en- 
graving of  my  '  Wouter.'  The  characters  are  all  well  preserved, 
but  the  composition  is  hurt  by  the  reproduction.  Yet  that  could 
not  have  been  avoided,  and  it  looks  better  reduced  than  I  thought 
it  would.  But  why  did  the  engraver  omit  the  A.  R.  A.  after  my 
name  ?    If  it  be  not  too  late,  I  should  like  to  have  it  added. 

"  I  have  made  so  many  changes  in  '  Belshazzar  '  that  it  is  yet 
unfinished,  but  they  are  all  for  the  better.  I  do  not  regret  the 
time  bestowed  on  it,  especially  as  I  find  it  at  last  drawing  to  a 
close.  I  hope  to  complete  it  by  the  end  of  May.  Till  then  «I 
shall  say  nothing  about  it.  Morse,  I  hear,  has  just  finished  a 
picture  of  Congress  Hall,  and  is  daily  expected  here  to  exhibit. 
At  odd  times  I  have  made  a  number  of  compositions,  but  I  have 
laid  them  all  aside  until  I  finish  '  Bel.'  The  best  among  them  is 
'  Macbeth  and  Banquo  Meeting  the  Witches  on  the  Heath,'  one  of 
the  happiest,  I  think  ;  the  next  is  Minna  and  Brenda  on  the  sea- 
shore, from  the  1  Pirate.' 

From  Leslie  to  AUston. 

"London,  August  18,  1823. 
"My  Dear  Sir:  I  sit  down  to  perform  a  promise  I  made 
some  months  ago  of  writing  you  a  long  letter  of  all  sorts  of 
news.    .    .  . 

"  I  did  not  get  my  1  Autolycus  '  finished  for  Somerset  House, 
and  have  laid  it  entirely  aside  for  some  time.  I  have  lately 
been  employed  entirely  on  small  portraits,  alias  *  pot-boilers.' 
One  of  these  was  posthumous,  and  from  a  grandchild  of  Lord 
Egremont's.  I  succeeded  to  his  Lordship's  satisfaction,  for 
when  I  told  him  my  price  was  twenty-five  guineas,  he  imme- 
diately wrote  me  a  cheque  for  fifty.  I  am  to  paint  him  a  picture 
from  1  Don  Quixote '  of  Sancho  in  the  apartment  of  the  Duchess, 
in  which  I  shall  probably  introduce  a  portrait  of  one  of  his  lord- 
ship's daughters. 


176 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"  By  the  bye,  I  remember  your  telling  me  of  one  of  them  you 
nearly  fell  in  love  with  when  you  were  at  Petworth,  pray  which 
was  it  ?  Lord  Egremont  talks  a  great  deal  of  you,  and  I  am  sure 
he  would  be  very  glad  to  see  you  here  again.  Phillips  says  your 
'  Jacob's  Dream '  is  hung  in  an  excellent  light  at  Petworth  and 
looks  very  grand.  The  exhibition  at  Somerset  House  is  consid- 
ered rather  below  par  this  year.  Wilkie  is  almost  the  only  artist 
of  eminence  who  is  equal  to  himself.  The  small,  whole-length 
portrait  of  the  Duke  of  York  is  one  of  the  finest  things  he  has 
ever  painted.  The  Duke  is  in  a  blue  military  surtout  over  a  red 
coat,  sitting  at  a  table  reading  a  despatch.  His  face  is  lighted 
by  a  reflection  from  the  paper.  At  his  back  is  a  window  with  a 
muslin  blind,  through  which  the  picture  is  lighted,  and  under  the 
table  at  which  he  sits  is  an  immense  black  dog.  The  materials 
(you  will  perceive)  are  of  the  commonest  kind;  yet  disposed 
with  so  much  art  and  painted  with  such  exquisite  truth  that  it 
is  the  most  interesting  picture  in  the  Exhibition.  Lawrence  is 
inferior  to  himself  this  year.  He  has  made  Lady  Jersey  (a  very 
unusual  thing  for  him)  look  like  a  vulgar  trollope.  Phillips's 
whole-length  of  the  Duke  of  York  in  his  coronation  robes  is 
finely  managed,  but  the  head,  and  indeed  the  whole  portrait,  is 
very  inferior  to  Wilkie's.  I  must  go  back  to  Wilkie  again,  whose 
other  picture  I  had  liked  to  have  forgotten.  The  subject  is  a 
parish  beadle  putting  some  vagrants  (an  Italian  musician,  his 
wife  and  boy,  dancing  bear,  etc.)  in  the  watch-house  for  having 
a  row  at  a  fair.  The  subject  is  an  unpleasant  one,  and  the  cause 
for  which  the  poor  creatures  (foreigners,  too)  are  locked  up,  is 
not  apparent,  so  that  it  becomes  an  act  of  sheer  oppression  on 
the  part  of  the  beadle.  It  is,  however,  full  of  beautiful  painting. 
The  Italian  woman's  head,  and  a  monkey,  are  perhaps  as  perfect 
specimens  of  imitation  as  could  be  produced  from  the  whole 
range  of  art.  The  picture,  however,  generally  considered,  is  too 
powerful  in  light  and  shade  for  an  out-of-door  scene  under  any 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


177 


circumstances.  Fuseli  expressed  his  surprise  to  Wilkie  to  see 
him  painting  in  the  'Caravaggio  style,'  as  he  called  it.  Sir 
George  Beaumont,  whom  you  know  is  a  great  enemy  of  the 
white  school,  is  delighted  with  this  picture  and  the  Duke  of 
York,  and  hails  them  as  indications  of  a  reform  in  art. 

"  Howard's  '  Solar  System  '  is  a  beautifully  imagined  picture, 
and  would  delight  you,  excepting  perhaps  in  color.  A  figure  of 
Apollo  forms  the  focus  of  light  in  the  centre,  and  around  him 
are  revolving  personifications  of  the  planets,  receiving  light,  as 
they  pass,  in  small  vases.  Mercury,  Venus,  Mars,  Jupiter,  and 
Saturn  are  represented  by  the  deities  of  those  names,  and  the 
Earth,  which  is  the  nearest  figure,  by  a  beautiful  female  in  a 
green  mantle,  with  towers  on  her  head.  Her  waist  is  gracefully 
encircled  by  the  arm  of  a  smaller  female,  in  white  drapery,  half 
shaded,  with  a  crescent  on  her  forehead,  and  receiving  light  from 
the  sun  in  a  silver  vase.  Jupiter,  Saturn,  and  the  Georgium 
Sidus  are  dimly  seen  in  the  darker  parts  of  the  circle,  surrounded 
by  their  satellites.  The  only  drawback  to  this  picture  is  the 
color,  which,  though  not  disagreeable,  is  far  from  being  as  poetical 
as  the  conception. 

"  Turner,  in  all  his  last  pictures,  seems  to  have  entirely  lost 
sight  of  the  '  modesty  of  nature.'  The  coloring  of  his  1  Bay  of 
Baia),'  in  the  present  Exhibition,  would  have  been  less  objection- 
able perhaps  in  Howard's  1  Solar  System ; '  but  as  applied  to  a  real 
scene,  although  splendid  and  harmonious,  it  is  nevertheless  a  lie 
from  beginning  to  end.  Some  people  who  have  been  in  Italy 
say  it  is  like  the  atmosphere  there;  but  if  that  is  the  case, 
Claude,  Poussin,  and  Wilson  must  have  been  very  bad  painters. 
Calcott  is  not  so  good  as  usual.  Constable's  1  Salisbury  Cathe- 
dral '  is  one  of  his  best  pictures.  You  are  much  wanted  in  the 
Exhibition.  The  number  of  historical  and  poetical  pictures  is 
lamentably  small,  and  of  that  small  number  very  few  are  good 

for  anything.    Haydon  is  in  the  King's  Bench.    It  is  said  he 
12 


178 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


owes  ten  thousand  pounds,  and  of  that  a  considerable  sum  is  for 
wine.  Sir  George  Beaumont's  picture  of  £  Macbeth,'  which  hap- 
pened to  be  lent  to  Haydon  for  exhibition,  was  seized  with  his 
other  pictures,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  or  not  Sir  George 
will  get  it  without  buying  it  over  again.  He  (Sir  G.  B.)  has 
lately  made  a  present  of  all  his  pictures  to  the  Nation  as  a  begin- 
ning of  a  public  gallery,  and  it  is  rumored  that  the  Government 
is  going  to  purchase  the  collection  of  Mr.  Angerstein,  who  is 
lately  dead,  to  add  to  it. 

"  Sir  George  and  Lady  Beaumont  often  talk  of  you  with  great 
regard.  He  told  me  he  wrote  to  you  some  time  ago,  but  is 
afraid  you  never  got  the  letter,  as  you  did  not  answer  it.  I  am 
sure  it  would  gratify  him  very  much  to  hear  from  you  and  to 
know  what  you  are  doing.  Coleridge  and  the  Gillmans  are  also 
very  anxious  to  hear  from  you.  They  were  very  much  delighted 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Channing.  For  my  own  part  I  was  so  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  Mr.  Channing  by  report,  before  I  saw 
him,  that  I  felt  quite  like  meeting  an  old  acquaintance.  The 
little  I  saw  of  him  so  fully  answered  to  all  I  had  heard — 
indeed,  he  exceeded  my  expectations  (and,  as  you  well  know,  his 
portrait  was  drawn  for  me  by  a  most  affectionate  hand),  that  I 
very  greatly  regretted  I  had  no  longer  time  to  profit  by  and 
enjoy  his  society.  He  gave  me  a  sermon  of  his  own,  the  last 
time  I  saw  him,  which  I  have  since  read  with  great  admiration. 
Coleridge  was  speaking  very  highly  of  this  sermon  a  few  days 
ago,  at  Sir  George's,  who  regretted  that  he  had  not  known  of  Mr. 
Channing's  being  in  London.  Irving  is  still  in  Germany.  New- 
ton is  quite  well.  By  the  bye,  I  forgot  to  mention  his  picture 
of  *  Don  Quixote  in  his  Study,'  as  among  the  best  in  Somerset 
House. 

"  I  am,  yours  ever, 

"C.  E.  Leslie." 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


179 


From  Allston  to  Ver planch. 

"Boston,  July  2,  1824. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  need  hardly  tell  you,  late  as  it  is,  how 
much  pleasure  you  have  given  me  by  your  'Discourse.'  The 
view  you  take  of  the  Fine  Arts,  as  connected  with  the  glory  and 
improvement  of  our  country,  appears  to  me  both  just  and  impor- 
tant, and  I  cannot  but  hope  that  your  strictures  on  our  architec- 
ture will  have  a  beneficial  effect ;  at  least  they  ought  to  produce 
it,  and  if  read  by  all  future  committees  whom  our  good  people 
may  appoint  to  overrule  the  designs  of  regular  architects,  they 
may  possibly  influence  some  sensible  bricklayer  or  baker  amongst 
them,  and  touch  his  presumption,  to  the  great  saving  of  his  time, 
and  the  public  expense.  I  do  not  know  a  surer  way  of  teaching 
our  countrymen  wisdom  than  by  showing  its  economy.  If  they 
can  be  made  to  feel  that  money  is  really  wasted  on  such  piles  as 
they  are  wont  to  cumber  the  ground  with,  they  will  perhaps  be 
less  liberal  of  their  advice ;  and  then  we  may  expect  some  im- 
provement. The  finest  speculations  on  taste  in  the  abstract  will 
do  little  good  where  so  many  claim  the  liberty  of  having  a  taste 
of  their  own.  Amongst  all  our  good  qualities,  and  I  am  patriotic 
enough  to  think  that  our  countrymen  have  as  great  a  share  of 
them  as  any  people  on  earth,  it  must  be  confessed  that  modesty 
as  to  matters  where  they  have  no  means  of  information  is  not  a 
very  prominent  one.  About  what  they  do  understand  they  are 
as  modest  as  other  folks.  But  malgre  the  inconveniences  of  this 
disposition  to  assume,  a  good-natured  man,  perhaps,  may  see  in 
it  only  the  spray  of  that  spirit  of  enterprise  which  has  prompted 
them  to  dash  through  every  known  and  unknown  sea,  to  tho 
fame  as  well  as  to  the  solid  advantage  of  our  country.  But  tho 
deviations  even  of  this  good  spirit  must  be  checked  in  many 
things  before  we  can  become  a  refined  nation. 

"As  to  the  present  subject,  I  think  you  have  applied  the 


180 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


most  efficient  corrective — I  mean  where  you  appeal  to  our  vanity ; 
the  contempt  of  foreigners  goes  farther  even  than  considerations 
of  economy.  A  book  abused  in  England,  or  a  building  ridiculed 
by  an  Englishman,  however  irritating,  does  actually  open  our 
eyes  to  their  defects.  If  we  were  proud,  such  attacks  would  only 
confirm  us  in  what  is  bad,  but  we  are  a  vain  people,  the  most 
malleable  of  all  things  ;  of  course,  all  the  better  for  hard  thumps. 
But  we  are  not  all  vain,  or  all  ignorant,  and  there  are  very 
many,  I  doubt  not,  on  whom  the  refined  and  speculative  parts  of 
your  *  Discourse,'  so  eloquently  set  forth,  will  not  be  lost.  The 
artists  ought  to  thank  you  for  the  dignity  with  which  you  have 
invested  their  art ;  and  I,  for  one,  not  only  do  so  for  that  and  for 
your  kind,  flattering  compliment  to  myself,  but  for  the  honorable 
mention  of  my  Sir  Joshua  ;  I  call  him  mine,  for  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
a  property  in  his  mind ;  quoad  the  painter,  he  has  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  my  own,  most  of  my  speculations  are  built  on  it,  and  it 
is  mine  by  right  of  settlement.  But  I  hardly  know  where  I  am 
rambling  

"Mr.  Dana  was  much  pleased  with  your  kind  remembrance 
of  him,  and  would,  I  dare  say,  send  you  a  message  did  he  know 
of  my  writing.  If  you  see  Mr.  Cooper,  pray  remember  me  to 
him.    I  was  delighted  with  the  '  Pilot ; '  'tis  a  great  performance. 

"Believe  me,  dear  sir,  with  sincerest  esteem,  yours, 

"W.  Allston." 


CHAPTEE  XVn. 


LETTERS  BY  HENRY  GREENOUGH  DESCRIBING  THE  TECHNICAL  SIDE 
OF  ALLSTON'S  ABT. — HIS  METHOD  OF  PAINTING. — HIS  PALETTE 
AND  THEORY  OF  COLOR. — HOW  HE  OBTAINED  LUMINOUSNESS  IN 
FLESH  TINTS. — VALUE  OF  THE  OLD  MASTERS  FOR  INSPIRATION 
AND  INSTRUCTING. — ALLSTON's  LETTER  OF  INSTRUCTION  FOR 
THOMAS  COLE. 

The  following  elaborate  letter  concerning  the  technical  meth- 
ods of  Allston's  painting,  and  his  views  as  to  the  many  difficult 
problems  of  his  art,  was  written  by  Henry  Greenough  in  answer 
to  the  request  of  R.  H.  Dana,  Sr.,  as  a  contribution  to  his  pro- 
posed biography  of  Alls  ton.  It  is  almost  a  complete  hand-book 
of  instruction  for  students  of  painting,  and  will  be  found  inter- 
esting, as  well,  to  those  who  have  but  a  general  interest  in  the 
subject : 

"  In  the  early  stages  of  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Allston  it 
was  my  good  fortune  to  hear  him  describe  his  mode  of  preparing 
his  palette  for  painting  flesh.  This  led  to  a  conversation  on 
color,  in  the  course  of  which  he  explained  very  minutely  his 
system  of  coloring.  As  it  was  a  subject  on  which  he  always 
dwelt  with  pleasure,  and  frequently  recurred  to,  I  have  heard 
him  describe  his  process  some  five  or  six  times,  very  nearly  in 
the  same  words ;  but  as  he  often  went  into  explanatory  remarks 
suggested  by  questions  interrupting  him,  I  will  endeavor  to  give 
the  result  of  these  several  conversations,  using  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible his  phraseology,  although  the  exact  order  of  his  remarks 
may  not  be  preserved. 


182 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"  '  My  present  system,'  said  he,  '  is  one  which  I  have  practised 
for  the  last  fifteen  years,  and  I  may  say  that  I  am  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  it,  because  I  know  it  is  capable  of  producing  far  greater 
results  than  my  lifetime  will  ever  enable  me  to  attain.  I  some- 
times vary  or  modify  my  process  according  to  my  subject,  but 
my  general  practice  is  on  the  same  principle. 

" 4  If,  for  instance,  I  have  a  head  to  paint,  I  suppose  it  to 
be  first  accurately  drawn  in  outline  and  dead-colored  with  black, 
white,  and  Indian  red.  This  dead  color  I  paint  solidly,  with  a 
good  body  of  color,  and  in  a  broad  manner,  that  is,  with  no  hard 
lines  or  attention  to  detail  in  form  or  color.  The  object  of  the 
dead  color  is  to  give  the  general  effect  of  light  and  shade,  and 
the  masses,  which  should  be  made  out  accurately ;  so  that  in  the 
next  stage  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to  think  whether  the  eyebrows, 
for  instance,  are  to  be  lowered  or  raised,  but  having  arranged 
these  points,  my  whole  attention  shall  be  given  to  the  coloring 
and  modelling  of  the  head. 

"  '  For  the  next  painting  I  prepare  my  palette  thus  :  At  the 
top  I  put  a  good  lump  of  white ;  next  to  it  some  yellow  (say  yel- 
low ochre,  raw  sienna,  or  Naples  yellow,  according  to  the  com- 
plexion I  am  to  paint).  Then  red  (vermilion  is  the  best,  but  I 
always  put  by  it  some  Indian  red  and  lake  to  strengthen  the 
lowest  tints  if  required),  lastly,  ultramarine  blue,  and  by  the 
side  of  it  a  little  black.  My  palette,  you  perceive,  now  has 
white,  black,  and  the  three  primitive  colors. 

"  '  By  admixture  of  white  with  yellow  I  form  three  tints  of 
yellow  in  regular  gradation  from  dark  to  light,  and  the  same 
with  the  red  and  blue.  These  I  call  my  virgin  tints,  and  they 
form  a  regular  scale  of  four  different  tints  from  the  lightest  down 
to  the  crude  color.  Lastly,  I  take  a  little  pure  yellow,  pure  red, 
and  pure  blue,  and  mix  them  to  a  neutral  hue,  which  comes  as 
near  to  olive  as  any  of  the  tertiaries.  This  is  for  the  shadows. 
I  used  formerly  to  make  two  olives,  one  light  and  one  darker, 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


183 


but  that  is  unnecessary;  a  little  Indian  red,  or  vermilion  and 
lake,  deepened  by  black,  serves  to  strengthen  the  shadows,  if 
necessary,  and  comes  in  play  to  mark  the  deep  shadow  of  the 
nostrils,  the  eyelids,  and  parting  of  the  lips. 

"  'I  now  take  my  canvas,  on  which  I  have  dead-colored  my 
head,  and  with  a  large  brush,  say  as  big  as  my  thumb,  but  ono 
which  will  come  to  a  point,  I  lay  in  the  shadows  with  olive,  not 
thin,  but  with  a  good,  firm  body.  With  this  olive  I  paint  over 
the  shaded  side  of  the  face ;  the  shadows  at  the  roots  of  the  hair, 
or  where  the  hair  joins  the  flesh,  under  the  eyebrows,  nose,  and 
lips.  The  half -tints  which  join  the  shadows,  such  as  the  lower 
part  of  the  lighted  side  of  the  face,  and  in  general  wherever  the 
shadow  becomes  less  positive,  I  go  over  with  olive  more  lightly. 

"  'I  then  take  another  brush,  such  as  I  used  for  the  olive  (for 
I  always  keep  one  brush  for  the  olive  and  another  for  the  lighter 
tints)  and  taking  on  the  end  of  it  a  little  of  the  lowest  of  my 
three  tints,  that  is,  the  lowest  tint  of  yellow  and  white,  red  and 
white,  and  blue  and  white,  I  mix  them  on  my  palette  with  my 
brush  only,  not  grinding  them  together  with  my  knife,  but  by  a 
few  turns  of  my  brush,  mingling  them  in  a  light  and  delicate 
manner.  This  broken  tint  I  apply  to  such  parts  as  join  the 
shadows.  In  the  same  manner  I  proceed  with  the  middle  tints, 
taking  a  little  of  each  and  gently  mingling  them  I  paint  over  all 
the  portions  of  the  face  which  remain  uncovered,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  highest  lights.  These  I  paint  over  with  the  threo 
lightest  tints,  neutralized  in  the  same  manner  as  the  others  were. 
My  head  is  now  covered,  and  each  of  the  three  colors  enters  into 
the  composition  of  the  whole.  In  every  part  there  is  a  blue, 
red,  and  yellow,  as  there  is  in  flesh,  even  in  the  highest  light. 

" 1 1  should  have  remarked  that  although  I  use  each  of  the 
three  colors  in  every  part,  I  still  endeavor  to  keep  the  character 
of  the  flesh.  I  keep  the  shadows  neutral  and  the  mass  of  light 
warm,  i.e.,  with  a  predominance  of  reds  and  yellow,  rather  than 


184 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


blue.  This  part  of  the  process  will  occupy  me,  say  half  an 
hour.  I  have  now  not  only  the  effect  of  light  and  shade,  but  the 
character  of  flesh,  and  the  parts  more  accurately  made  out.  It 
only  remains  to  perfect  the  local  colors  and  model  up  the  detail. 
I  find,  for  instance,  that  my  picture  has  less  red  in  the  cheeks 
than  the  model  has ;  I  dip  my  brush  into  one  of  the  virgin  tints 
of  red  and  break  it  in ;  if  it  is  too  light  I  try  the  next  lower,  and 
so  on.  The  forehead  may  not  have  enough  yellow ;  I  break  some 
in  until  I  have  corrected  the  deficiency  in  general.  Wherever 
I  find  my  picture  wanting  any  color  (on  comparing  it  with  my 
models)  I  touch  in  that  color.  It  is  really  wonderful  how  any 
color  thus  broken  in  will  be  in  perfect  harmony,  owing  to  the 
neutrality  of  the  impasto,  that  is,  owing  to  its  being  touched 
into  a  body  of  color  composed  of  three  colors.  It  seems  like 
magic,  the  effect  is  so  strong  and  so  true  to  nature.  When  I  say 
that  I  paint  my  shadows  in  flat  with  olive,  you  must  not  suppose 
that  I  leave  them  so  ;  I  endeavor  to  make  my  shadows  as  varied 
in  color  as  my  lights  and  half-tints.  To  be  sure,  shadows  are 
generally  neutral  in  color,  but  if  you  look  at  the  shaded  side 
of  the  cheek,  for  instance,  you  will  perceive  red  in  some  parts. 
You  should  break  in  red  then,  either  pure  vermilion  or  one  of 
the  lower  tints.  In  fact  I  modify  the  whole  of  my  shadows  by 
breaking  in  pure  color — blue,  red,  or  yellow — just  as  my  eyes  tell 
me  that  either  of  these  colors  is  wanting. 

" '  The  only  object  of  the  first  coat  of  olive  is  to  lower  the 
tone  and  neutralize  the  color  of  the  tints  which  I  afterward  break 
in.  And  here  I  would  remark  that  unless  the  shadows  are 
painted  solidly  you  can  never  make  a  brilliantly  colored  head. 
It  is  a  very  common  error  that  the  shadows  should  be  painted 
thin  in  order  to  get  transparency.  You  may  get  a  certain  de- 
gree of  transparency  by  doing  so,  but  then  the  whole  will  want 
force. 

"  '  Kubens's  method  of  painting  flesh,  as  described  in  Field's 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


185 


work  on  color,  was  faulty  in  this  respect,  as  also  in  having  streaks 
of  separate  colors,  which  always  remind  me  of  a  prize-fighter, 
who  has  been  bruised  black  and  blue.  The  fact  is,  sir,  Rubens 
was  a  liar,  a  splendid  liar,  I  grant  you,  and  I  would  rather  lie 
like  Rubens  than  to  tell  the  truth  in  the  poor,  tame  manner  in 
which  some  painters  do.  His  pictures  are  like  the  sophistical 
reasonings  of  a  liar,  to  whom  you  have  only  to  grant  his  premises 
and  he  will  thereon  erect  a  gorgeous  fabric,  but  deny  these  pre- 
mises and  it  all  falls  to  the  ground.  There  is  a  traditionary  say- 
ing of  Rubens  that  white  is  the  poison  of  shadow  in  painting. 
This  is  nearer  the  truth  in  glazing  than  in  the  impasto  or  body- 
color  painting.  The  impasto  cannot  be  true  to  nature  without 
the  tints  are  modified  by  admixture  of  white.  I  often  touch 
into  my  last  glazing  even  with  pure  color.  In  this  case  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  use  tints  very  low  in  tone,  sometimes  even 
the  crude  vermilion,  ochre,  or  blue.  Sir  William  Beechey  once 
remarked  to  Gainsborough  that  he  had  that  day  made  a  great 
discovery.  "It  is  one,"  said  he,  "which  I  find  enables  me  to 
produce  great  effects,  and  in  your  hands  would,  I  think,  work 
wonders."  "What  is  it?"  asked  Gainsborough.  "  Painting  into 
glazing,  sir,"  said  Sir  William.  "  That  is  no  news  to  me,"  said 
Gainsborough  ;  "  but  I  thought  I  was  the  only  man  in  England 
who  knew  the  secret." 

"  1  This  is  a  digression,  however.  I  was  speaking  before  of 
painting  in  body  colors.  It  is  very  important  in  covering  the 
head,  as  I  have  already  said,  when  you  mix  the  three  tints  to  do 
it  lightly  with  your  brush  only.  The  modem  Italians  mix  their 
pearl  tints  with  the  palette-knife,  which  is  death  to  all  brilliancy 
of  color.  It  makes  mud  of  the  tints  at  once.  They  no  longer 
sparkle  to  the  eye,  but  become  flat  as  stale  beer.  By  mingling 
them  lightly  with  the  brush,  you  make  a  neutral  tint  of  ten 
times  the  force  of  one  ground  up  with  the  knife,  and  if  you  were 
to  take  a  magnifying-glass  and  examine  the  tint  you  would  find 


186 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


small  particles  of  pure  color  which  give  great  brilliancy.  You 
must  have  observed  the  difference  in  lustre  between  silks  woven 
from  different-colored  threads  and  those  dyed  with  a  compound 
hue.  A  purple  silk  woven  of  two  sets  of  threads,  one  blue  and 
the  other  red,  cannot  be  matched  by  any  plain  silk-dyed  purple. 
The  first  has  a  luminous  appearance  like  the  human  complexion. 
This  luminousness  is  the  grand  characteristic  of  flesh.  It  is 
what  Titian  calls  the  "luce  di  dentro,"  or  internal  light.  When  I 
first  heard  that  expression  of  Titian's  it  opened  to  me  a  world  of 
light.  It  is  common  with  painters  to  talk  of  the  transparency  of 
flesh ;  it  is  not  transparent  but  luminous.  When  I  was  in  Paris, 
a  student,  Hazlitt  (author  of  "  Conversations  with  Northcote  "), 
was  there  painting  a  copy  from  Titian.  We  were  examining  the 
texture  of  the  color,  and  he  remarked  upon  the  singularly 
varied  character  of  the  tints.  "  It  looks,"  said  he,  "  as  if  Titian 
had  twiddled  his  colors."  I  don't  know  whether  this  expression 
strikes  you  as  it  did  me.  To  me  it  is  very  expressive,  and  first 
gave  me  the  idea  of  catching  up  each  of  the  three  colors  and 
merely  twiddling  them  together  instead  of  grinding  them  with 
the  knife. 

"  '  I  always  endeavor  to  finish  my  impasto  in  one  day.  With 
ordinary  diligence  and  success  this  may  be  easily  done.'  A 
friend  who  was  present  here  expressed  great  surprise  at  the  idea 
of  a  head  being  painted  in  one  day,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  glazing 
the  next ;  meaning,  of  course,  a  highly  studied  head  and  not  a 
mere  sketch.  Mr.  Allston  replied  :  '  Oh,  yes,  even  a  portrait 
(supposing  it  to  have  been  already  drawn  and  dead-colored  pre- 
viously) might  be  painted  in  one  day,  that  is,  the  face  alone,  the 
hair  could  be  painted  separately  as  well  as  the  dress,  back- 
ground, and  accessories.  At  all  events,  if  I  were  a  portrait- 
painter  I  would  make  the  experiment.  I  would  devote  great  at- 
tention to  making  a  careful  and  correct  outline  and  dead-color, 
but  afterward,  instead  of  taking  several  short  sittings,  I  would 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


187 


complete  the  impasto  in  one  long  sitting,  and  glaze  afterward. 
If  on  a  review  of  my  work  I  find  any  part  incorrect,  or  which 
does  not  satisfy  me,  I  go  over  the  shadows  and  the  half-tints,  in 
such  parts  as  I  wish  to  repaint,  with  a  thin  glaze  of  olive,  very 
slightly,  and  touch  into  it.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  matching 
the  lights,  but  it  is  very  difficult  to  paint  over  your  shadows  and 
half-tints,  unless  you  prepare  an  olive  glazing  to  touch  into. 

"  '  When  my  head  is  ready  for  glazing  I  give  it  a  general 
glazing  a  day  or  two  previous  to  finishing  it.  I  mix  asphaltum, 
Indian  red,  and  ultramarine  to  a  neutral  tint,  and  with  this  I 
just  tinge  some  megilp — the  least  in  the  world — just  enough  to 
discolor  my  megilp  a  little ;  this  serves  to  lower  the  tone  of  my 
picture  a  mere  shade  and  give  harmony  to  the  colors.  I  add  to 
the  megilp  some  japan  gold  size,  which  serves  to  make  it  dry 
firm  and  enables  me  to  work  it  over  the  next  day,  wiping  out  or 
painting  over  as  I  please.  When  this  is  dry  I  prepare  some  me- 
gilp with  asphaltum,  Indian  red,  and  blue  of  a  deeper  tint,  as 
before,  only  I  put  little  or  no  japan  in,  as  I  wish  to  prevent  its 
drying  too  soon.  The  neutral  tint  mixed  as  I  have  described  is 
what  I  call  "  Titian's  dirt."  With  this  I  go  over  the  face,  strong 
in  the  shadows  and  lighter  in  the  half-tints ;  with  a  dry  brush  or 
rag  I  wipe  off  the  glazing  or  weaken  it  as  I  wish,  and  in  this  way 
model  up  the  general  form  and  detail.  This  part  of  the  process 
is  very  much  like  water-color  painting,  only  that  water  colors  dry 
several  times  during  the  process,  but  here  the  paint  is  left  moist. 
If  any  part  seems  weak  in  color  I  paint  in  pure  color,  either  red, 
blue,  or  yellow,  as  the  case  may  be. 

"  *  The  effect  of  glazing  is  to  deepen  the  tone.  You  may 
paint  a  bit  of  canvas  over  with  a  solid  body  of  ivory  black,  which 
one  would  suppose  is  as  black  as  paint  can  represent,  but  let  it 
dry  and  then  by  repeated  glazings  of  asphaltum  and  Prussian 
blue  over  a  portion  of  it,  you  will  deepen  the  tone  as  much  as  to 
make  your  first  coat  of  black  look  like  slate-color  by  the  side  of 


190 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


instance,  instead  of  being  painted  solidly,  be  washed  or  glazed 
up  strongly,  it  will  come  forward  too  much,  and  the  head  will 
appear  embedded  into  it ;  a  thin  pellicle  of  glazing,  just  enough 
to  give  harmony,  is  sufficient.  I  had  an  opportunity  of  testing 
the  truth  of  what  I  say  on  a  large  scale.  I  was  painting  my 
large  picture  of  the  "  Angel  Delivering  St.  Peter  from  Prison." 
My  figures  were  all  drawn  and  dead  colored  ;  I  had  made  out  the 
lines  of  the  architecture  and  washed  in  the  background  with 
umber  ;  this  gave  me  my  effect  of  light  and  shade,  and  served  to 
prevent  any  uncovered  canvas  from  disturbing  my  eye  while 
painting  my  figures.  I  then  finished  my  figures,  and  Mr.  Leslie 
happening  to  see  the  picture  in  that  stage,  I  remarked  to  him, 
that,  according  to  Mr.  West's  theory,  I  ought  not  to  touch  my 
background  again.  Mr.  West  had  at  that  time  a  theory  (which 
I  think  he  must  have  adopted  late  in  life,  as  his  early  practice 
does  not  savor  of  it  at  all),  that  "  if  you  once  lose  the  ground  of 
your  canvas  in  the  background,  it  is  not  ivithin  the  reach  of  art  to 
supply  the  loss."  "  Now,"  said  I  to  Leslie,  "  I  think  I  can  prove 
to  you  that  this  is  an  error  ;  I  will  paint  over  this  background  a 
new  one  which  will  make  it  as  flimsy  as  a  gauze  veil."  Accord- 
ingly I  prepared  my  palette  with  a  variety  of  tints  mixed  with 
white,  and  painted  over  a  small  portion,  say  about  half  a  yard. 
I  then  retired  a  short  distance  to  observe  the  effect.  To  my 
great  dismay,  I  found  it  looked  weak  and  chalky  to  the  last  de- 
gree. I  had  used,  as  I  thought,  very  strong  color,  and  yet,  by 
the  side  of  the  glazed  portions  even  vermilion  and  white  looked 
like  slate  color.  A  new  thought  struck  me.  I  became  con- 
vinced that  my  principle  was  right,  but  my  palette  was  in  this 
case  wrong.  I  swept  it  clean  of  the  tints  I  had  prepared ;  I  took 
off  a  pint  of  paint,  and  then  took  a  bladder  of  pure  yellow  ochre 
and  emptied  it  upon  my  palette  ;  for  my  red  I  ground  two  whole 
papers  of  pure  vermilion,  and  so  with  all  the  colors  I  wanted, 
with  the  exception  of  ultramarine  ;  to  give  body  to  that  I  added 


The  Stoning  of  St.  Stephen. 

From  the  original  sketch  in  the  possession  of  Jared  B.  Flagg,  of  New  York. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


191 


a  little  white ;  this  was  the  only  color  I  used  with  any  white.  I 
then  went  to  work  again,  and  with  these  pure  colors — blue,  red, 
and  yellow — I  painted  away  fearlessly  and  found  the  result  just 
as  I  had  anticipated.  I  found  that  with  this  strong  color  I  could 
match  my  glazed  background  perfectly;  it  was  already  made 
out,  in  lines,  form,  and  chiaro-oscuro,  and  all  I  had  to  do  was  to 
match  as  I  went  on.  The  prison-walls  were  illuminated  by  a 
supernatural  light,  and  the  focus  of  it  was  on  the  walls  behind 
the  angel.  I  there  used  almost  pure  yellow  ochre,  and  in  order 
to  make  the  lights  upon  the  nailheads  of  the  door,  I  was  obliged 
to  use  pure  Naples  yellow  and  vermilion.  When  I  had  done 
about  half  of  it,  I  compared  the  two  portions,  the  old  with  the 
new ;  why,  sir,  the  stones  of  the  wall  in  the  glazed  portion  looked 
as  if  you  could  blow  them  down  with  your  breath.  I  completed 
the  whole  of  the  background  in  that  day,  and  never  had  occasion 
to  retouch  it,  except  to  give  it  one  general  wash  of  thin  as- 
phaltum  glazing.  Sir  George  Beaumont,  in  a  letter  to  me, 
speaking  of  the  background  of  the  picture,  said,  "the  back- 
ground is  perfect,"  and  /  think  I  may  say  to  you  that  it  was  as 
perfect  as  anything  I  ever  painted  or  ever  shall  paint1 

"  This  last  remark  was  made  in  so  modest  a  manner  that  I 
felt  that  the  enthusiasm  of  his  manner  was  all  for  the  art,  and 
that  there  was  no  personal  feeling  in  it.  It  was  like  the  enthusi- 
asm of  a  chemist  in  describing  a  beautiful  result  of  some  darling 
experiment.  Mr.  Allston  then  paused  a  moment  and  added,  1  It 
was  a  happy  accident,  sir.'  As  if  desirous  of  disclaiming  all 
glory  for  himself. 

"  Subsequent  to  the  conversation  in  which  Mr.  Allston  ex- 
plained his  mode  of  painting  flesh,  he  observed  that  to  a  certain 
degree  he  practised  the  same  system  in  painting  other  sub- 
stances. '  I  paint  even  my  pebbles  and  rocks  on  this  system, 
always  putting  in  the  high  lights  with  three  colors.  Any  pict- 
ure in  which  the  high  lights  are  so  painted,  with  the  local  color 


194 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


nousness  of  his  skies  and  truth  of  tone  and  color  of  his  moun- 
tains ;  that  in  his  mountains  he  produced  an  effect  which  I  did 
not  remember  to  have  seen  given  by  any  other  painter.  'A 
mountain  at  a  great  distance,'  said  I,  'sometimes  is  so  deep- 
toned  and  intense  in  its  color  that  any  tint  of  blue  which  will 
match  it  seems  to  be  so  strong  as  to  bring  it  directly  into  the 
foreground,  and  yet,  sir,  you  contrive  to  give  the  deep  tone  and 
keep  your  mountains  at  any  distance  you  please.  Besides  this, 
you  give  a  certain  mellowness  of  tone  which  I  can  only  describe 
by  saying  that  your  mountains  look  as  if  one  could  with  a  spoon 
help  himself  easily  to  a  plateful.  This  idea  struck  me  in  your 
Alpine  scenery,  but  more  particularly  in  the  "  Spanish  Girl,"  now 
owned  by  Mr.  Clark.' 

"  Mr.  Allston  replied,  '  I  am  glad  you  liked  that  picture,  for 
I  thought  I  had  been  happy  in  that  very  effect,  and  I  will  tell 
you  how  I  painted  it.  I  first  conceived  the  process  when  study- 
ing Mount  Pilot,  in  Switzerland.  I  painted  the  mountain  with 
strong  tints  of  pure  ultramarine  and  white  of  different  tints,  but 
all  blue.  Then  to  mitigate  the  fierceness  of  the  blue  I  went 
over  it,  when  dry,  with  black  and  white,  and  afterward  with  In- 
dian red  and  white,  not  painting  out  each  coat  by  the  succeed- 
ing one,  nor  yet  scumbling,  but  going  over  it  in  parts  as  seemed 
necessary.  You  know  that  if  you  paint  over  a  red  ground  with 
a  pretty  solid  impasto  you  get  a  very  different  effect  of  color 
from  one  painted  on  a  blue  or  yellow  ground.  Whatever  be  the 
color  of  the  ground  it  will  show  through  and  have  its  effect  on 
the  eye,  unless  with  malice  prepense  you  entirely  bury  it  with 
opaque  color.  In  this  way  I  went  over  that  mountain,  I  sup- 
pose, at  least  twenty  times,  and  that  is  the  secret  of  the  diapha- 
nous effect  which  you  mention. 

"  '  If  I  wish  to  paint  a  clear  blue  sky,  of  a  warm  and  brilliant 
tone,  I  dead-color  it  with  orange,  grading  my  tints  from  deep 
orange  at  the  top  down  to  light  yellow  on  the  horizon,  just  as  if 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


195 


I  were  going  to  paint  an  orange  sky  instead  of  a  blue  one. 
When  this  is  dry,  I  then  paint  a  sky  over  it  of  pure  blue  and 
white,  grading  my  tints  from  dark  to  light  as  before,  the  orange 
underneath  modifies  the  blue  just  enough  to  prevent  its  looking 
cold.  I  finally  give  it  a  slight  glazing  of  umber,  asphaltum,  or 
any  neutral  color,  which  not  only  gives  harmony  and  atmosphere, 
but  takes  away  the  appearance  of  paint. 

"  '  The  process  by  which  I  paint  foliage  was  the  result  of  ac- 
cident. I  was  painting  a  landscape  in  which  a  large  tree  was  the 
most  prominent  feature.  When  I  had  given  it  the  finishing 
touches,  I  found  that  the  tree  was  flat  and  opaque ;  the  air  did 
not  circulate  through  the  leaves  and  branches.  It  was  a  case  in 
which  I  must  "  cither  make  a  spoon  or  spoil  a  horn"  for  the  pict- 
ure was  good  for  nothing  unless  I  could  remedy  this  defect,  and 
I  resolved  on  a  bold  experiment.  I  took  pure  yellow  ochre  and 
dotted  leaves  all  over  it  wherever  I  wished  the  branches  to 
come  forward.  This  gave  my  tree  the  appearance  of  having  had 
a  shower  of  yellow  ochre  from  a  dredging-box.  When  it  was 
dry  I  gave  it  a  thin  glaze  of  megilp  and  gold-size,  just  tinged 
with  asphaltum,  and  found  to  my  surprise  that  these  last  touches 
were,  by  the  glazing,  so  assimilated  to  the  former  painting  that 
no  one  could  have  discovered  that  they  were  not  painted  at  one 
and  the  same  time.  I  afterward  took  asphaltum  and  blue  and 
varied  the  light  and  shade  of  the  masses  by  glazing.  I  found 
that  by  the  thinnest  possible  glaze  over  any  portion  I  could 
throw  it  back  and  in  the  deepest  shadows ;  I  found  that  a  deeper 
tint  of  asphaltum  and  blue  gave  just  the  effect  of  deep  shade — 
it  was  just  like  painting  with  dark  air  !  The  result  was  that  my 
tree  was  now  better  than  any  I  had  previously  painted,  and  from 
that  time  I  reduced  the  process  to  a  regular  system  in  painting 
my  trees,  and  even  my  plants,  in  the  foreground.  I  paint  in  the 
forms  of  my  plants  with  yellow  ochre,  Naples  yellow,  and  ultra- 
marine, and  then  glaze  and  touch  into  my  glaze.    This  gives 


196 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


form,  light,  and  shade,  and  the  color  of  plants ;  everything  but 
texture ;  to  give  this,  I  finally  give  them  a  thin  glaze  of  yellow 
ochre,  which  adds  the  texture  also. 

"  £  For  glazing  foliage  and  such  parts  of  my  picture  as  I  wish 
to  glaze  over  several  times  in  the  same  day,  I  employ  a  vehicle 
which  I  much  prefer  to  megilp,  and  which  would  seem  to  be 
very  nearly  the  same  thing  as  is  said  to  have  been  used  by  Cor- 
reggio.  I  mix  spirits  of  turpentine  and  Japan  gold-size  in  a 
wine-glass,  say  half  and  half,  or  one-third  gold-size  and  two- 
thirds  spirits  of  turpentine.  This  furnishes  a  very  delicate  and 
ethereal  medium  for  my  glazing  colors,  and  dries  very  soon,  en- 
abling me  to  go  over  my  picture  a  great  many  times  without 
clogging  my  canvas  with  oils  and  resins. 

"  '  Speaking  of  vehicles  and  mediums  for  color,  reminds  me 
of  an  experiment  I  tried  in  my  picture  of  "  Elijah  in  the  Des- 
ert." My  colors  were  prepared  in  dry  powders,  and  my  vehicle 
was  skim-milk ;  with  this  I  moistened  my  powdered  colors  and 
mixed  them  of  the  same  consistency  as  oil  colors.  My  canvas 
had  an  absorbent  ground,  and  my  colors  dried  nearly  as  fast  as  I 
could  paint.  "When  I  had  completed  my  impasto,  I  gave  it  a 
coat  of  copal  varnish,  and  while  it  was  fresh  touched  into  it  wdth 
transparent  oil  colors,  and  afterward  glazed  it  in  my  usual  man- 
ner. The  picture  was  finished  in  an  inconceivably  short  time 
(although  I  put  into  it  as  much  study  as  in  any  other),  owing  to 
there  being  no  delay  from  complicated  processes.  And  it  was 
the  most  brilliant  for  tone  and  color  I  ever  painted.  Although 
the  experiment  succeeded  so  well  in  London,  where  the  milk  is 
so  bad  that  it  goes  by  the  name  of  "  sky-blue,"  I  have  never  felt 
at  liberty  to  try  it  again,  since  my  return  to  America.  I  am  con- 
fident, however,  that  great  results  might  be  brought  about  by  it.' 

"  I  was  one  evening  present  at  a  conversation  between  Mr. 
Allston  and  a  young  artist,  in  the  course  of  which  he  made  sev- 
eral remarks  which  strike  me  as  worthy  of  preservation  in  con- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


197 


nection  with  his  art.  After  some  compliments  and  an  assurance 
(which  must  have  been  in  the  highest  degree  encouraging,  com- 
ing from  such  a  source)  that  he  was  in  the  right  road,  Mr.  All- 
ston  continued :  '  I  have  frequently  been  told  by  friends  of 
yours,  sir,  that  they  were  afraid  you  were  running  after  the  old 
masters.  Now  if  that  frightens  them,  I  would  make  every  hair 
on  their  heads  stand  on  end  !  for  you  may  depend  upon  it  that 
you  cannot  go  to  better  instructors  for  your .  art.  From  them 
you  will  learn  the  language  of  your  art,  and  (will  learn)  to  see 
nature  as  they  saw  it.  You  will  understand,  of  course,  that  I  am 
not  recommending  you  to  imitate,  but  to  study,  them.  By 
studying  their  works  you  will  imbibe  their  spirit  iusensibly; 
otherwise  you  will  as  insensibly  fall  into  the  manner  of  your 
contemporaries.  The  old  masters  are  our  masters,  and  there  is 
hardly  an  excellence  in  our  art  which  they  have  not  individu- 
ally developed.  With  regard  to  preparatory  studies,  I  should 
warmly  recommend  your  devoting  a  portion  of  every  day  to 
drawing  ;  for  this  reason,  that  if  an  artist  does  not  acquire  a  cor- 
rect design  while  young,  he  never  will.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
always  felt  conscious  that  his  powers  were  very  much  limited 
and  his  works  incorrect  for  want  of  the  early  habit  of  drawing. 
A  painter  may  be  blest  with  every  gift  of  nature,  but  unless  he 
has  acquired  the  art  of  design  he  can  never  express  himself.  If 
you  would  not  bo  tormented  by  a  consciousness  of  having  noble 
and  beautiful  conceptions  to  which  you  cannot  give  birth,  you 
must  give  much  of  your  time  to  drawing.  For  this  purpose  I 
should  recommend  a  course  of  study  somewhat  different  from 
what  is  generally  purstied.  I  would  devote  my  attention  prin- 
cipally to  outline.  It  is  perhaps  well  enough  to  learn  how  to 
make  a  finished  drawing,  but  when  you  have  once  done  that, 
your  time  had  better  be  spent  in  making  drawings  of  the  figure 
in  highly  studied  outline  only.  My  own  practice  is  to  make  a 
finished  outline  always  before  touching  the  brush  to  canvas.  I 


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WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


draw  the  outlines  of  such  figures  as  I  intend  to  drape,  making 
out  the  figure  as  nicely  as  if  it  were  to  be  painted  naked.  I  take 
a  large,  rough  piece  of  common  chalk,  which  makes  a  broad  mark, 
and  then  with  my  finger  or  a  bit  of  bread  I  can  rub  out  a  por- 
tion and  thus  get  a  little  more  or  little  less  much  better  than  by 
using  a  fine  point.  When  I  have  arranged  the  contour  of  my 
figure  or  head  I  trace  the  final  outline  with  umber.  I  would 
recommend  your  studying  your  outline  as  highly  as  if  it  were 
not  to  be  disturbed,  but  when  you  paint  use  your  br  ush  as  freely 
as  if  you  had  no  outline  to  go  by.  This  is  the  only  way  to  avoid 
the  hardness  of  effect  which  is  apt  to  arise  from  a  close  study  of 
the  outline.  I  frequently  paint  my  figures  over  the  outline  and 
let  my  background  encroach  upon  the  contour  of  the  figure  again 
several  times  in  the  course  of  the  painting. 

" '  The  process  of  shading  with  chalks  or  pencils  is,  more 
strictly  speaking,  painting,  but  it  is  painting  with  the  very  worst 
of  materials.  I  know  of  no  better  exercise  in  drawing  than  the 
study  of  Flaxman's  "  Illustrations  ; "  and  I  would  make  it  a  rule  to 
copy  two  or  three  figures  from  them  every  day.  This,  of  course, 
I  recommend  as  an  initiatory  study.  After  you  have  acquired  a 
readiness  of  giving  the  air  and  spirit  of  the  figure,  preserving  the 
proportions,  you  will  then  have  recourse  to  nature  and  the  an- 
tique with  great  advantage.  The  drawings  of  the  old  masters, 
which  are  now  preserved  with  so  much  care,  are  almost  all  studies 
in  outline  and  pen  sketches.  I  cannot  see  how  the  modern  devi- 
ation from  this  practise  can  be  attended  with  any  good.  I  would 
adopt  for  my  motto  that  of  Tintoret,  "  The  design  of  Michael 
Angelo,  with  the  coloring  of  Titian."  But  I  would  modify  it  by 
substituting  the  design  of  Raphael  for  Michael  Angelo's,  for 
Michael  Angelo's  style  of  drawing  was  mannered,  peculiar  to  his 
individual  nature  and  intellect,  while  Raphael's  was  truer  to  nat- 
ure and  more  suitable  to  form  a  school  of  drawing. 

"  £  Be  industrious  and  trust  to  your  own  genius ;  listen  to  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


199 


voice  ivithin  you,  and  sooner  or  later  she  will  make  herself  under- 
stood, not  only  to  you,  but  she  will  enable  you  to  translate  her 
language  to  the  world,  and  this  it  is  which  forms  the  only  real 
merit  of  any  work  of  art.  An  artist  must  give  the  impress  of  his 
own  mind  to  his  works  or  they  will  never  interest,  however  acad- 
emically correct  they  may  be.  If  you  work  in  this  spirit  you 
will  often  find  yourself  working  for  months  and  months  without 
effecting  your  purpose,  and  at  last  some  accident  or  chance 
touch  will  produce  an  effect  which  something  within  you  will 
immediately  recognize  as  true.' 

"  Mr.  Allston  here  read  the  following  sonnet,  in  which  he 
embodied  the  above  ideas.  It  forms  one  of  the  highest  speci- 
mens of  poetry  connected  with  art : 

Sonnet  on  Art. 

O  Art,  high  gift  of  Heaven  !  how  oft  defamed 
When  seeming  praised !    To  most  a  craft  that  fits, 
By  dead  prescriptive  rule,  the  scattered  bits 
Of  gathered  knowledge ;  even  so  misnamed 
By  some  who  would  invoke  thee ;  but  not  so 
By  him — the  noble  Tuscan  * — who  gave  birth 
To  forms  unseen  of  man,  unknown  to  earth, 
Now  living  habitants ;  he  felt  the  glow 
Of  thy  revealing  touch,  that  brought  to  view 
The  invisible  Idea  ;  and  ho  knew, 
E'en  by  its  inward  sense,  its  form  was  true ; 
'Twas  life  to  life  responding — highest  truth ! 
So  through  Elisha's  faith  the  Hebrew  youth 
Beheld  the  thin,  blue  air  to  fiery  chariots  grow. 

[This  sonnet,  I  think,  adds  great  force  and  meaning  to  the 
above  remarks.] 

"  *  I  sometimes  think  that  to  an  artist  great  riches  would  be- 

*  Michael  Angelo. 


200 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


come  valueless  ;  he  would  have  no  occasion  for  them.  For  my- 
self I  can  truly  say  that  I  have  no  pleasures  out  of  my  art.  Of 
late  years  my  health  has  obliged  me  often  to  relax  my  efforts, 
and  I  sometimes  accept  invitations  to  dinners,  or  social  meet- 
ings with  my  friends,  to  divert  my  mind,  but  I  generally  submit 
to  it  as  if  a  tooth  were  to  be  drawn.  I  often  wish  I  could  live  a 
thousand  years  to  enable  me  to  execute  all  my  designs,  for  it 
seems  [and  here  he  laughed  very  merrily  at  his  own  enthusiasm] 
as  if  time  is  only  valuable  to  be  employed  in  painting  and  all 
objects  only  useful  as  they  are  good  to  be  painted.' 

"  I  remember  a  few  remarks  of  Mr.  Allston's  made  upon 
different  pigments,  which,  although  not  generally  interesting, 
might  perhaps  be  worthy  of  being  preserved  in  a  note.  Speak- 
ing of  white-lead,  he  lamented  bitterly  that  the  manufacturers,  in 
endeavoring  to  obtain  great  purity  of  white  had  ruined  the  body 
of  this  most  useful  pigment.  '  I  very  much  prefer  white-lead  to 
Cremlitz  white  or  silver  white.  I  do  not  care  so  much  about  the 
extreme  whiteness  as  the  opacity.  Nowadays  they  have  almost 
entirely  purged  all  body  from  it  to  make  it  pure.  It  looks  beauti- 
fully white,  but  you  might  almost  as  well  paint  with  snow  !  Brill- 
iancy of  color  depends  more  upon  the  opacity  of  the  lights  than 
the  transparency  of  shadows,  because  the  proportion  of  shadow  to 
light  is  but  small.  It  was  a  false  idea  of  Eubens,  that  white  is  the 
'poisoner  of  shadow,  and  that  saying  of  his  has,  I  fear,  led  many 
astray.  I  introduce  white  always  into  my  shadows,  for,  although 
I  prepare  my  shadows  first  by  laying  them  in  with  olive,  I 
always  break  in  tints  compounded  with  white.  Sir  Joshua  Key- 
nolds  did  not  like  vermilion,  but  he  was  obliged  to  come  to  it  at 
last,  and  those  pictures  which  he  painted  with  vermilion  are  the 
only  ones  which  have  stood  the  test  of  time.  I  contrive  to  give 
my  vermilion  the  spunk  of  lake  by  touching  in  blue  (ultramarine) 
even  in  the  red  of  the  cheeks  ;  not  by  painting  with  it  so  as  to 
leave  it  apparent,  not  by  mixing  it  with  the  red,  but  with  a  deli- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


201 


cate  touch,  as  it  were,  fusing  them  together.  Whenever  I  use 
lake  I  add  a  very  little  vermilion  to  give  it  body. 

"  '  Raw  sienna  and  burnt  sienna  are  very  powerful  colors,  but 
require  to  be  used  with  great  care  ;  they  are  such  stainers — so 
little  produces  such  strong  effects.  There  is  nothing  like  raw 
'  sienna  for  painting  the  lights  of  gold,  when  mixed  with  white. 
Naples  yellow  makes  brass,  but  not  gold.  I  painted  my  vase  of 
gold  in  "  Belshazzar  "  in  this  way ;  for  the  reflexes  I  was  obliged 
to  mix  Indian  yellow  and  vermilion  to  avoid  the  use  of  red-lead, 
which  changes  color  with  time.  Prussian  blue  is  a  most  useful 
color  for  glazing.  With  Prussian  blue  and  asphaltum  you  may, 
by  repeated  glazings,  get  any  depth  of  tone  you  wish.  If  desir- 
able, you  can  get  a  warm  tone  from  them  by  adding  good  madder 
lake.  If  Prussian  blue  did  not  change  in  hue  it  would  be  the 
best  color  for  skies ;  it  is  nearer  to  sky-color,  when  fresh,  than 
ultramarine,  but  changes  directly.  But  of  all  colors  the  most 
unexceptionable  is  ultramarine.  I  remember  reading  of  Van 
Dyck's  having  received  a  present  from  some  prince  of  trrnfij 
'pounds  of  it !  I  think  that  for  that  moment  I  envied  Yan  Dyck 
more  than  if  I  had  heard  of  his  receiving  as  many  thousand 
pounds  sterling.' 

It  is  difticult  to  speak  of  the  character  or  works  of  Mr.  All- 
ston  without  seeming  to  run  to  excess  in  eulogium  and  superla- 
tive praise.  I  leave  to  an  abler  hand  the  pleasing  task  of  tracing 
the  perfection  of  his  intellectual  and  religious  nature  and  content 
myseH  with  giving  my  humble  testimony  in  favor  of  the  grace- 
ful dignity,  the  refined  elegance,  and  benignant  urbanity  of  his 
manners.  In  this  respect  he  was  the  perfect  model  of  a  gentle- 
man. Etiquette  of  the  most  approved  mode,  and  conforming  to 
the  strictest  rules  of  conventionalisms  at  upon  him  like  an  easy, 
familiar  garment ;  while  it  fitted  him  to  mingle  with  the  noble 
and  refined,  it  was  never  felt  to  be  oppressive  by  those  of  the 
most  simple  and  homely  breeding.    Envy,  malice,  and  detraction 


202 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


alone  felt  rebuked  by  his  presence.  It  was  impossible  to  con- 
verse with  him  without  being  made  to  feel  that  his  mind,  by 
nature  benevolent  in  the  highest  degree,  had  been,  by  religious 
culture,  so  chastened  and  purified  as  to  elevate  him  beyond  the 
influence  of  petty  passion  and  weaknesses.  He  seemed,  like  a 
superior  being,  to  sit  in  sunshine  above  the  clouds  and  storms 
which,  alas !  but  too  often  overshadow  the  children  of  this  world. 

"  As  an  artist  it  is  not  easy  to  compare  him  with  those  who 
have  enjoyed  the  same  degree  of  reputation.  Combining  as  he 
did  the  excellences  of  all  the  old  masters  he  still  kept  free  from 
their  individual  defects.  He  seems  early  to  have  adopted  Tin- 
toret's  idea  of  forming  a  perfect  school  of  art,  and  has  certainly 
succeeded  better  than  any  painter  since  the  time  of  Eaphael  in 
analyzing  the  processes  of  the  old  masters  and  making  them  sub- 
servient to  the  embodiment  of  his  own  conceptions.  He  was  a 
thorough  proficient  in  every  branch  of  art ;  not  only  drawing  his 
figures  with  the  most  academical  correctness,  but  even  modelling 
his  forms  with  great  mastery  in  order  that  beauty  of  form  and 
delicacy  of  organization,  the  highest  excellence  of  sculpture, 
might  in  his  works  be  superadded  to  painting. 

"  Of  his  proficiency  in  the  sister  art,  sculpture,  I  remember 
several  specimens,  in  particular  a  clay  model  for  the  head  of  the 
Prophet  Jeremiah,  of  the  size  of  life,  and  a  colossal  foot  which 
he  had  occasion  to  introduce  in  one  of  his  large  pictures.  The 
last,  from  its  masterly  style  and  exquisitely  idealized  form,  might 
well  be  mistaken  for  a  cast  from  the  antique. 

"  In  speaking  of  his  contemporaries  he  was  most  liberal  of 
praise,  awarding  to  each  the  highest  degree  of  merit  to  which  he 
considered  him  entitled.  If  he  had  occasion  to  speak  of  defects, 
it  was  evident  that  he  did  so  from  a  regard  to  truth,  and  that 
it  gave  him  no  pleasure  to  dwell  upon  them.  He  had  a  fa- 
miliar maxim,  which  seems  to  have  been  his  guide  in  speaking 
of  works  of  art,  that  it  is  an  easy  matter  to  find  fault,  but  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


203 


praise  judiciously  requires  au  intimate  and  extended  knowledge 
of  art. 

"  The  old  masters  were  to  him  the  patriarchs  of  the  painter's 
religion,  of  whom  he  always  spoke  with  reverence,  and  to  wliom 
he  looked  for  lessons  in  the  practice  of  his  art.  Had  he  ever 
spoken  slightingly  of  them  or  let  drop  one  word  from  which  we 
could  infer  that  he  would  detract  from  their  reputation,  we 
might  hesitate  to  assign  him  a  place  among  them  ;  if  it  be  true, 
as  has  been  asserted,  that  Michael  Angelo  ever  spoke  disparag- 
ingly of  the  Greeks,  it  must  raise  a  doubt  whether  an  incapacity 
to  appreciate  them  must  not  rank  him  their  inferior.  But  if 
genuine  unaffected  modesty  is  a  sure  proof  of  real  merit,  the 
name  of  Allston  must  one  day  take  a  high  rank,  even  among  the 
Old  Masters:' 

The  following  letter  was  written  by  Allston  to  H.  Pickering, 
as  a  memorandum  of  general  and  specific  counsel  for  the  painter 
Thomas  Cole,  then  a  young  artist  on  the  eve  of  departing  for 
study  in  Europe  : 

11  Boston,  November  23,  1827. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  To  be  of  service  to  young  artists  of  merit  has 
at  all  times  been  to  me  a  pleasant  duty ;  I  need  hardly  say,  then, 
that  in  serving  any  friend  of  yours  I  shall  find  real  pleasure. 
Therefore  I  most  cordially  comply  with  your  request.  As  the 
limits  of  a  letter,  however,  will  not  allow  me  to  offer  more  than  a 
few  general  hints,  I  beg  that  what  I  have  to  say  may  be  consid- 
ered merely  as  such,  and  that  some  allowance  may  be  made  for 
the  want  of  connection.  The  narrowness  of  my  limits  must  be 
my  apology  for  abrupt  transitions. 

"  As  you  have  not  mentioned  for  what  part  of  Europe  your 
friend  intended  to  embark,  I  suppose  you  have  left  it  to  me  to 
advise  on  this  point.  If  so,  I  want  to  recommend  his  going  first 
to  England,  where  I  would  have  him  remain  at  least  half  the 


204 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


time  he  proposes  to  remain  abroad.  The  present  English  school 
comprises  a  great  body  of  excellent  artists,  and  many  eminent  in 
every  branch.  At  the  head  of  your  friend's  department  he  will 
find  Turner,  who,  take  him  all  in  all,  has  no  superior  of  any  age. 
Turner's  '  Liber  Studiorum  '  would  be  a  most  useful  work  for 
him  to  possess.  I  venture  to  say  this  without  having  seen  it, 
but  coming  from  him  I  know  what  it  must  be.  There  are  many 
other  admirable  landscape  painters  whom  I  could  also  name,  but 
your  friend  will  hear  of  them  before  he  has  been  long  in  London. 
I  advise  this  disproportionate  stay  in  England  because  I  think  it 
important  that  the  first  bias  he  receives  should  be  a  good  one, 
inasmuch  as  on  this  not  a  little  of  the  future  tone  of  his  mind 
will  depend.  This  bias  (in  art  as  well  as  manners)  is  taken  from 
the  living,  whether  we  choose  it  or  not ;  and  to  impart  a  true 
and  refined  one,  together  with  sound,  practical  principles,  I 
know  no  modern  school  of  landscape  equally  capable  with  the 
English ;  in  my  judgment  it  has  no  living  rival ;  many  of  them 
having  attained  to  high  excellence,  and  all  knowing,  even  those 
who  cannot  reach  it,  in  what  it  consists.  On  quitting  England 
a  short  time  may  be  spent  in  France,  two  or  three  months  in 
Switzerland,  and  the  remainder  of  the  time  in  Italy.  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  lay  out  any  plan  for  your  friend  when  he  visits  these 
countries,  as  he  will  be  enabled  to  form  one  more  suited  to  his 
peculiar  wants  by  the  advice  of  artists  recently  returned  from 
the  Continent,  whom  he  will  meet  in  London. 

"  You  say  that  your  friend  is  a  passionate  admirer  of  nature. 
Let  him  never  lose  his  love  for  her.  This  may  perhaps  seem 
to  him  impossible.  But  there  are  artists,  as  well  as  connois- 
seurs, who,  as  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  says,  '  have  quitted  nature 
without  acquiring  art.'  To  avoid  this  the  young  artist  should 
study  nature  and  pictures  together ;  he  will  find  they  mutually 
reflect  light  upon  each  other.  By  studying  the  works  of  other 
men  we  are  in  effect  appropriating  to  ourselves  their  experience  ; 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


205 


in  this  way  we  may  be  said  to  multiply  our  eyes  and  to  see  a 
thousand  things  that  might  otherwise  elude  us ;  in  studying  nat- 
ure we  are  enabled  to  separate,  in  art,  the  true  from  the  facti- 
tious ;  thus  we  become  learned  in  both.    In  no  other  way  can  a 
sound  critic  be  formed,  much  less  a  sound  artist.    As  every  ar- 
tist must  begin  by  taking  things  on  trust,  it  is  of  the  last  impor- 
tance that  he  does  not  misplace  his  admiration,  for  it  is  not  so 
easy  to  unlearn  as  it  is  to  learn.    Hence  I  would  advise  the 
student  to  select  his  models  from  among  the  highest.    In  imi- 
tating these  no  doubt  the  difficulty  will  be  greater  than  if  he  felt 
he  followed  those  who  seem  nearer  to  himself ;  but  high  attempts 
have  this  double  advantage,  that  they  make  us  better  acquainted 
with  what  we  cannot,  as  well  as  what  we  can  do.    Nor  is  the 
former  an  unimportant  piece  of  knowledge,  if  we  have  but  the 
courage  to  meet  it ;  it  is  profitable  in  more  than  one  sense  ;  since 
the  very  process  by  which  we  attain  to  it  strengthens  our  pow- 
ers in  having  tasked  them  to  the  utmost.    If  many  men  fail 
from  attempting  too  much,  there  are  also  some  who  owe  their 
want  of  success  to  having  attempted  too  little.    For  I  believe  it 
to  be  no  less  difficult  for  a  great  mind  to  excel  in  trifles,  than  for 
a  narrow  mind  to  produce  a  great  work.    I  would  therefore  rec- 
ommend it  to  your  friend  to  place  at  the  head  of  his  list  Claude, 
Titian,  the  two  Poussins,  Salvator  Rosa,  and  Francesco  Mola,  to- 
gether with  Turner  and  the  best  of  the  modern  artists,  whom  I 
cannot  be  supposed  as  meaning  to  exclude  after  what  I  have 
already  said  of  the  English  School.    I  would  have  him  study 
them  all,  and  master  their  principles  and  examine  their  masses 
of  light  and  shadow  and  color ;  observe  what  are  the  shapes  of 
these,  and  how  they  recall  and  balance  each  other ;  and  by  what 
lines,  whether  of  light,  shadow,  or  color  the  eye  travels  through 
the  pictures.    Among  the  painters  I  have  mentioned  (with  the 
exception  of  the  two  Poussins)  no  two  styles  will  be  found  to 
have  the  least  resemblance,  yet  they  are  not  more  unlike  than 


206 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


nature  often  is  at  different  times  to  herself.  It  is  for  the  sake 
of  the  difference  that  I  recommend  them  ;  as  the  exclusive  study 
of  any  one  of  them,  though  by  the  brightest  intellect,  would 
never  make  even  a  tenth-rate  Titian  or  Claude,  much  less  an 
original  painter. 

"  Every  original  work  becomes  so  from  the  infusion  (if  I  may 
so  speak)  of  the  mind  of  the  artist,  and  of  this  the  fresh  materi- 
als of  nature  alone  are  susceptible.  The  works  of  man  cannot 
be  endued  with  a  second  life,  that  is,  with  the  mind  of  another ; 
they  are  to  another  as  air  already  breathed.  It  is  this  imparted 
life  which  we  call  genius ;  we  know  not  how  communicated,  or 
what  it  is,  but  the  spirit  within  us  discerns  it  in  an  instant, 
whether  in  a  picture  or  poem,  and  we  pity,  love,  admire,  or  give 
the  reins  to  the  mind  to  travel  where  it  listeth  through  the  name- 
less regions  of  reverie.  It  is  not  unusual  for  young  artists  to  be 
startled  at  the  depth  of  tone  and  the  powerful  chiaro-oscuro  of 
the  old  masters,  and  to  think  them  exaggerated,  if  not  unnatural. 
But  the  old  masters  were  not  only  true,  but  in  their  best  works 
express  the  highest  truth,  such  as  nature  reveals  only  to  a  gifted 
few.  Their  effect  may  be  called  the  poetical  moods  of  nature, 
occurring  rarely,  and  only  known  to  occur  in  poetical  minds. 
Sir  Joshua  has  the  same  thought  somewhere,  though  he  has  ex- 
pressed it  better.  I  think  it  is  Young  who  says,  '  an  undevout 
astronomer  is  mad.'  This  may  also  apply  to  the  painter.  It 
has  been  my  happiness  to  know  many  artists  who  were  no  less 
estimable  for  their  moral  and  religious  characters  than  distin- 
guished for  their  genius.  I  hope  your  young  friend  may  be 
added  to  their  number.  He  has  chosen  a  profession  in  itself 
innocent,  if  properly  pursued,  that  is,  for  its  own  sake,  in  a  high 
degree  elevating.  Indeed  it  seems  as  if  no  one  could  truly  love 
nature  without  loving  its  divine  author,  who  in  all  his  works, 
even  in  the  terrible,  if  rightly  understood,  no  less  than  in  the 
beautiful,  speaks  only  in  the  language  of  love. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


207 


"  I  feel  assured  that  to  you  I  need  not  apologize  for  these 
concluding  remarks ;  when  we  hear  of  a  young  man  of  genius,  it 
is  natural  to  wish  him  a  happiness  proportioned  to  his  endow- 
ments. I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  with  the  highest  esteem  and  re- 
spect, sincerely  yours, 

"Washington  Allston." 

Following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  by  Allston  to  John 
Greenough,  written  in  1827  : 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  devoting  your  time  to  draw- 
ing. No  reputation,  however  high  during  the  artist's  life,  will 
survive  it,  except  he  be  a  first-rate  colorist  like  Sir  Joshua.  But 
great  as  he  was,  and  you  know  my  admiration  of  him,  I  still 
think  he  would  have  been  ten  times  greater  had  he  known  how 
to  draw;  for  he  had  both  character  and  expression,  and  only 
lacked  the  higher  invention  because  he  wanted  the  means  of  em- 
bodying his  conceptions.  His  capacity  for  inventing  showed 
itself  in  his  backgrounds  and  his  chiaro  -  oscuro,  and  it  would 
have  been  equally  rich,  I  have  no  doubt,  in  form,  had  he  been 
equally  master  of  that. 

"  I  am  persuaded  that  anyone  may  learn  to  draw  accurately 
if  he  will  only  be  patient  and  peg  for  it.  To  draw  finely,  that  is 
with  grace  and  beauty,  is  another  thing.  This  requires  vigorous 
genius,  but  no  one  can  know  if  he  has  this  genius  until  he  has 
first  fagged  to  acquire  accuracy.  I  am  myself  too  much  fagged 
with  my  day's  labor,  or  would  willingly  fill  this  paper,  so  I  must 
bid  you  good-night.    God  bless  you. 

"Washington  Allston." 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 


LETTERS  FROM  1826  TO  1830. — BEGINNING  OF  COGDELL  CORRE- 
SPONDENCE.— ALLSTON'S  LETTERS  TO  COGDELL,  VERPLANCK,  AND 
LESLIE. — HORATIO  GREENOUGH  AND  LESLIE  TO  ALLSTON. 

From  Allston's  return  to  Boston,  in  1818,  to  1827,  lie  kept 
up  his  correspondence  with  Leslie,  to  whom  he  revealed  himself 
with  confidence  and  affection.  After  1827  intervals  between  his 
letters  to  Leslie  began  to  lengthen,  and  he  wrote  more  frequently 
to  Gulian  C.  Verplanck,  of  New  York,  and  John  F.  Cogdell,  of 
Charleston,  S.  C.  Cogdell  was  a  young  artist  friend  for  whom 
Allston  seemed  to  have  the  warmest  regard.  He  wrote  to  him 
with  openness,  as  to  a  younger  brother.  This  feeling  as  of 
kindred,  was  shared  by  Allston's  mother,  who  said  she  regarded 
Cogdell  as  a  son. 

In  his  correspondence  with  Leslie,  Yerplanck,  and  Cogdell, 
running  from  1818  to  1843,  Allston  gives  us  a  record,  from  which 
had  nothing  more  been  preserved,  we  would  be  able  to  form  a 
clear  estimate  of  his  character.  These  letters  need  no  word  of 
comment  or  explanation,  and  we  give  them  with  confidence  that 
they  will  be  found  extremely  interesting  : 

From  Allston  to  Cogdell. 

"Boston,  July  1,  1826. 
"  Dear  Cogdell  :    I  suppose  you  know  that  I  am  not  formed 
for  being  a  very  frequent  correspondent.    I  must  acknowledge 
that  I  am  not.    Perhaps,  however,  were  the  number  of  letters 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON  209 

known  which  I  write  in  the  course  of  a  year,  I  might  not  be 
thought  quite  so  sad  a  one.  That  I  write  many  letters,  then, 
supposes  many  correspondents,  which  is  indeed  the  case — in 
Europe  as  well  as  here.  When  this  is  considered,  together  with 
the  little  leisure  which  my  arduous  profession  leaves  me,  I  feel 
very  sure  you  will  allow  much  for  me. 

"  When  I  wrote  the  passage  which  you  quote  from  my  letter 
in  your  last,  I  sincerely  entertained  the  hope  it  expressed ;  but 
it  was  grounded  on  the  contingency  of  my  possessing  the  health 
and  ability  requisite  to  complete  the  work  on  which  many  other 
of  my  hopes  have  been  raised.  And  I  failed  from  the  want  of 
both.  In  addition  to  other  calamities  I  was  taken  from  my  labors 
two  months  at  one  time  by  a  severe  attack  of  influenza.  Indeed 
it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  I  have  lost,  by  illness  and  bad 
weather,  more  than  four  months  since  October.  You  tell  me 
very  kindly  to  keep  up  my  spirits  ;  I  thank  you.  It  has  been  no 
easy  matter  to  do  so,  I  assure  you.  Were  nothing  at  stake,  at 
least  were  the  stake  any  other  than  it  is,  I  should  count  these 
interruptions  and  delays  as  nothing,  for  I  may  say  from  experi- 
ence that  I  am  patient  of  toil  and  obstacle  ;  but  when  the  thought 
crosses  me  of  how  much  is  depending  on  my  present  labor,  I 
have  need  indeed  of  all  my  philosophy  to  keep  in  heart.  Afflic- 
tion and  various  misfortunes  have  long  since  taught  me  the  duty 
of  resignation.  I  may  say  that  I  have  been  inured  to  disap- 
pointments ;  not  that  I  do  not  keenly  feel  them,  but  that  I  have 
learned  to  submit  to  them,  and  it  is  well  for  my  present  work 
that  I  have  been,  requiring  as  it  does  not  only  all  my  faculties 
but  their  free  exercise.  I  cannot  say,  however  (though  proof 
against  absolute  despondency),  that  I  have  always  been  able  to 
sustain  that  entire  self-possession  so  essential  to  their  freedom. 
I  could  not  always  drive  from  me  the  benumbing,  anxious 
thought ;  it  would  come  in  the  midst  of  my  work  ;  and  there  have 

been  times  when  it  has  fallen  upon  me  like  the  gigantic  hand  in 
14 


210 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


the  '  Castle  of  Otranto,'  as  if  it  stretched  forth  from  my  picture, 
and  was  about  to  crash  me  through  the  floor.  This  may  seem 
strong ;  but  if  you  ever  felt  the  '  sinking  of  the  heart,'  when  in 
the  midst  of  a  work,  on  the  success  of  which  your  all  depended, 
and.  that  success,  too,  depending  on  a  thorough  self-possession, 
you  will  not  think  it  too  strong.  This  may  in  part  account  for 
my  doing  and  undoing  and  doing  again  what,  in  happier  moments, 
I  might  have  done  at  once.  But  this  is  to  me  a  reluctant  sub- 
ject, and  I  will  spare  you  as  well  as  myself.  And  it  is  better  that 
I  say  no  more  about  my  picture  until  I  can  have  the  pleasure  of 
telling  you  that  it  is  finished.  This,  however,  I  may  allow  my- 
self to  say  now,  that  I  have  never  been  so  well  satisfied  with  my 
labors  as  within  the  last  three  months.  My  health  is  so  much 
improved  that  I  work  eight  or  nine  hours  a  day. 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Amory  has  informed  me  that  you  had  re- 
mitted to  him,  while  he  was  in  Philadelphia,  the  amount  of  your 
subscription,  for  which  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  thanks.  I  shall 
not,  however,  appropriate  it  to  my  own  use  until  1  Belshazzar '  is 
ready  for  delivery  to  the  subscribers.  In  the  meantime  Mr. 
Amory,  who  is  so  kind  as  to  act  as  'Bel's'  treasurer,  has  placed 
it  to  your  account,  and  considers  it  on  interest,  for  which  he  will 
account  to  you  on  the  completion  of  the  picture,  when  I  receive 
the  principal. 

"  I  have  been  much  gratified  by  your  remarks  on  my  picture 
of  the  '  Dead  Man  '  at  Philadelphia,  and  I  thank  you  heartily  for 
the  praise  bestowed,  which  is  high  enough,  I  am  sure,  to  have 
satisfied  me,  had  my  pretensions  been  much  greater.  My  recol- 
lection of  the  picture  is  now  so  indistinct  that  I  should  not  vent- 
ure, were  I  so  inclined,  to  controvert  the  few  objections  you 
have  made.  It  is  most  probable,  were  I  to  see  it  again,  I  should 
agree  with  you  in  all,  with  one  exception,  and  I  have  no  doubt  I 
could  point  out  many  faults  which  your  partiality  has  over- 
looked.   The  exception  alluded  to  is  to  the  remark  of  the  heads 


Dead  Man  Revived  by  Touching  the  Bones  of  the 
Prophet  Elijah. 

From  the  original  in  the  possession  uf  the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Fine  Art. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


211 


of  the  two  Feretrori  being  two  small.  Whatever  of  style  the 
character  of  the  design  may  possess  is  owing,  I  think,  to  this 
proportion.  It  is  grounded  on  a  sound  principle  extracted  from 
the  study  of  the  antique  and  the  old  masters,  particularly  the  lat- 
ter. Michael  Angelo  owes  much  of  his  grandeur  to  this  princi- 
ple. He  has  pushed  it  indeed  much  farther  than  I  should  dare  to 
follow  it.  I  have  been  much  struck,  however,  with  the  justness 
of  your  objection  to  the  introduction  of  the  wife  of  the  reviving 
man ;  it  is  so  just  that  were  I  to  compose  the  subject  again  I 
should  omit  her.  The  incident  (her  fainting)  is  dramatic,  and  as 
such  does  not  harmonize  with  the  miracle,  which  is  epic. 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  W.  Allston." 

From  Allston  to  Leslie. 

"Boston,  November  9,  1826. 

"  Dear  Leslie  :  I  write  you  again,  and  yet  not  with  the  inten- 
tion of  fulfilling  my  long-made  promise  of  a  long  letter.  But  I 
know  you  will  readily  forgive  the  delay  when  you  shall  hereafter 
learn  the  cause.  I  have  had  many  things  to  depress  me,  and  to 
indispose  me  for  writing  about  myself.  I  could  never  see  the 
benefit,  either  to  ourselves  or  our  friends,  of  talking  about  our 
misfortunes ;  so  I  make  it  a  rule  to  spare  both  parties  by  holding 
my  tongue  till  I  can  use  it  to  a  more  useful  or  pleasurable  pur- 
pose. I  trust,  however,  that  the  difficulties  under  which  I  have 
so  long  labored  will  soon  be  at  an  end,  and  leave  me  in  a  condi- 
tion to  play  the  part  of  Hero  to  a  letter,  with  some  pleasure  to 
you  and  without  pain  to  myself.  But  all  this  between  ourselves, 
and — I  will  add — Collins,  to  whom  I  wish  you  to  assign  it  as  the 
cause  of  my  not  writing  him,  telling  him  at  the  same  time  that  I 
will  make  him  ample  amends  when  my  bright  day  comes. 

"  My  purpose  in  writing  to  you  now  is  to  ask  your  good  office 
in  behalf  of  a  most  valued  friend,  one  who  has  been  to  me  a  friend 
indeed,  and  to  whom  I  could  render  no  service  that  would  make 


212 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


me  less  a  moral  debtor.  Kindness  when  disinterested  can  never 
be  repaid,  and  such  has  his  been  to  me.  This  preface  might 
perhaps  seem  to  announce  a  more  important  service  than  the 
one  I  would  here  render  Mr.  Amory ;  but  I  could  not  forbear 
saying  what  I  have,  or  indeed  adding,  malgre  the  occasion,  that 
he  is  one  of  the  few  men  who  would  find  it  impossible  to  make 
you  feel  '  gratitude  as  a  brother.'  But  to  the  point :  Mr.  Amory 
has  shipped  by  the  Plato,  for  Liverpool,  three  pictures,  which 
will  be  sent  to  Messrs.  Baring  &  Bates,  London,  for  sale.  Now, 
the  favor  I  have  to  ask  you  is  to  go  and  look  at  them,  and  if 
they  please  you,  to  make  favorable  mention  of  them  to  such  gen- 
tlemen, should  you  know  any,  as  you  may  think  likely  to  become 
purchasers.  In  making  this  request  Mr.  Amory  would  not  for 
the  world  wish  you  to  utter  a  syllable  in  their  favor  unless  you 
liked  the  pictures ;  nor  would  I  propose  it  on  any  other  condition. 
All  we  ask  is  your  unbiassed  opinion,  and  good  word,  if  favorable 
and  if  the  opportunity  occur  to  speak  it.  This  being  premised 
(as  the  lawyers  say)  I  may  now  give  my  opinion,  but  I  give  it 
without  even  the  wish  that  it  should  affect  yours,  however  confi- 
dently I  speak.  The  Claude  is  genuine  ;  I  have  no  doubt  of  it 
whatever.  No  other  man  ever  painted  such  an  atmosphere  as  is 
there.  Of  the  Salvator  Bosa — I  have  too  little  acquaintance  with 
Salvator's  hand  to  say  whether  it  is  by  him  or  not.  But  if  it  is 
not  by  him  it  must  be  an  original  by  some  other  master ;  it  does 
not  look  like  a  copy.  But  by  whomsoever  it  may  be,  I  think  it  a 
very  fine  picture.  And  so  it  seems  to  have  been  thought  by 
others,  having  been  sold  many  years  since  in  Paris  for  two  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  at  a  time  when  the  English  were  not  there,  and 
of  course  money  more  scarce.  It  went  thence  to  Switzerland. 
The  Backhuysen,  so  far  as  I  am  acquainted  with  the  master,  ap- 
pears to  be  genuine.  And  this,  too,  if  not  a  Backhuysen,  I 
would  venture  to  say  is  no  copy.  These  pictures,  before  they 
came  into  Mr.  Amory's  possession,  belonged  to  Mrs.  Amory 's 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


213 


uncle,  who  lived  many  years  in  France,  and  I  believe  died  there. 
You  will  no  doubt  remember  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Amory  in  London. 
They  well  remember  you. 

"  And  now  accept  my  congratulations  on  the  birth  of  your 
son  and  heir  ;  I  hope  he  will  inherit  (if  your  modesty  will  allow 
me  to  say  it)  both  your  virtues  and  genius.  At  any  rate,  he  may 
the  former,  as  he  will  have  the  advantage  of  his  father's  example ; 
and  should  that  only  fall  to  his  lot,  better  that  than  only  the 
latter,  for  goodness  before  greatness  every  wise  man  must  wish 
in  those  he  loves. 

"  I  enclose  a  letter  to  Mr.  Howard  requesting  him  to  trans- 
fer to  you  one  of  the  tickets  to  which  I  am  entitled  as  an  associ- 
ate ;  the  other  I  have  asked  him  to  give  to  Collins.  Though  it 
is  but  a  trifle  yet  I  know  he  will  accept  it  as  a  mark  of  my  con- 
tinued regard,  which  I  can  assure  him  has  not  abated  an  atom,  in 
spite  of  time  and  distance. 

"  I  have  not  seen  Dr.  Channing  for  a  fortnight ;  he  has  been 
in  the  country." 

From  Allston  to  Cogdell. 

"Boston,  June  21,  1827. 
"  Dear  Cogdell  :  I  have  just  heard  of  your  arrival  in  New 
York,  and  I  send  you  these  few  lines  to  bid  you  welcome  by  an- 
ticipation to  Boston,  for  now,  that  you  are  so  near,  I  cannot 
doubt  that  you  intend  to  favor  us  with  a  visit.  As  I  am  so 
much  in  arrears  to  you  in  letters,  if  my  apologies  were  in  pro- 
portion I  fear  I  should  have  little  room  for  anything  else  were  I 
to  attempt  them  now,  so,  as  I  hope  soon  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you,  I  shall  defer  them  till  then.  In  the  meantime,  to 
take  something  from  my  apparent  remissness,  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  sent  you  (in  a  letter  to  my  mother),  some  time  since,  a 
message  respecting  your  bust  of  Dr.  Holbrook,  which  I  desired 
her  to  tell  you  I  thought  did  you  great  credit.    I  may  now  add 


214 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


that  I  consider  it,  for  a  first  attempt,  a  very  remarkable  perform- 
ance, and  one  which  gives  assurance  of  future  excellence.  With 
some  practice  and  a  little  hard  fagging  (you  know  my  doctrine, 
that  nothing  is  to  be  done  without  it),  I  think  you  will  be  able 
safely  to  sign  yourself  sculptor.  What  particularly  pleased  me 
in  the  bust  was  the  strong,  marked  character,  which  satisfied  me, 
though  I  have  never  seen  the  living  original,  that  it  must  be  an 
excellent  likeness.  Next  to  that  was  the  truth  of  the  several 
quantities,  a  particular  in  which  most  beginners  are  mainly  lack- 
ing. As  to  the  faults,  they  are  such  as  proceed  from  inexpe- 
rience, and  which  time,  of  course,  will  soon  enable  you  to  cor- 
rect.   I  pede  fausto. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  our  Exhibition  here.  As  I  am 
so  large  a  contributor,  I  suppose  I  must  be  careful,  in  speaking 
of  it,  to  except  my  own  works.  This,  however,  I  need  not  be 
scrupulous  about  in  writing  to  you,  who  I  know  would  never 
suspect  me  of  self-praise.  The  Exhibition,  then,  has  surprised 
everybody,  myself  among  them.  I  assure  you  that  I  have  seen 
worse  in  London.  And  what  has  also  been  an  agreeable  matter 
of  wonder  is  the  astonishing  success  it  has  had  with  the  public. 
Day  after  day  and  week  after  week  it  has  been  thronged  to  a 
most  delightful  degree  of  annoyance — delightful,  at  least,  to  the 
astonished  artists,  to  whom  it  might  well  have  been  jam  jam,  but 
never  satis.  I  have  seen  no  account  of  the  Exhibition  at  New 
York.  I  hope  it  has  been  as  successful  a  one.  The  receipts 
here  have  been  upward  of  three  thousand  dollars.  I  saw,  how- 
ever, a  very  handsome  notice  of  my  friend  Morse's  address. 
Pray  tell  him  to  send  me  a  copy  of  it  by  you." 

From  Allston  to  Leslie. 

' 1  Boston,  August  12,  1827. 
"  Dear  Leslie  :  This  will  be  handed  to  you  by  Mr.  John 
Greenough,  with  whom  (if  he  is  not  already  known  to  you),  I 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


215 


beg  to  make  you  acquainted.  He  has  had  the  advantage  of  a 
liberal  education,  and  you  will  find  him  one  of  cultivated  mind, 
and  of  good  taste  in  letters,  which,  though  it  does  not  qualify  a 
man  to  judge  of  pictures,  much  less  to  paint,  must  still  be  a 
matter  of  no  small  moment  to  a  young  artist,  inasmuch  as  refine- 
ment in  things  even  minutely  connected  with  it,  will  render  him 
less  liable  to  contract  vulgar  or  narrow  views  of  art.  He  that 
has  elevated  views  on  one  subject  which  he  has  cultivated,  is  not 
likely  to  form  mean  ones  on  any  other  to  which  he  may  give  his 
mind.  In  the  truth  of  this  I  know  you  will  agree  with  me,  and 
also  in  the  opinion  that  no  artist  of  real  eminence  can  be  found 
of  vulgar  taste,  even  on  subjects  wholly  foreign  to  his  art. 

11  Ever  truly  yours, 

"Washington  Allston." 

From  Allston  to  Verplanch 

"Boston,  January  31,  1828. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  read  your  book,  1  Evidences  of  Revealed 
Religion,'  with  more  than  pleasure,  I  trust  with  spiritual  profit ; 
many  of  your  arguments  appeared  to  me  new ;  the  whole,  I 
thought  cogent  and  eloquent.  As  to  the  dedication,  I  could 
wish  I  had  better  deserved  it ;  at  any  rate,  I  am  grateful  for  its 
kindness. 

"  Your  kindness  is  indeed  unremitting,  for  I  have  again  to 
thank  you  for  your  letter  of  the  9th,  enclosing  the  report  of  the 
*  Debates.'  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  present  my  best  ac- 
knowledgments to  Major  Hamilton  for  the  very  kind  and  flatter- 
ing notice  with  which  he  was  pleased  to  honor  me  in  his  elo- 
quent speech  in  Congress. 

"  You  will  probably  soon  meet  in  Washington  with  a  young 
sculptor  and  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Horatio  Greenough,  who  has  a 
letter  to  you  from  Mr.  Dana ;  he  was  educated  at  our  college, 


216 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


and  has  passed  two  years  in  Italy,  which,  from  ill-health,  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  in  the  commencement  of  a  career  of  no  common 
promise.  It  is  his  intention,  however,  to  return  thither,  when 
his  purse  will  let  him,  and  I  think  I  hazard  nothing  in  saying 
that,  before  many  years,  I  shall  look  for  his  station  among  the 
very  first  in  his  art.  He  has  genius,  harmony,  and  modesty. 
The  last,  I  would  fain  believe,  is  always  the  natural  shadow  of 
the  first.  At  least  it  follows  his  genius  like  one  of  the  quiet 
backgrounds  of  Yan  Dyck.  He  is,  besides,  a  gentleman,  not 
merely  in  manners,  but  in  that  better  quality  which  does  not 
meet  the  eye.  Indeed  I  esteem  his  character  as  a  man  no  less 
than  I  admire  his  genius  as  an  artist.  I  feel  sure  you  will  be 
pleased  with  him.  His  main  object  in  visiting  Washington  is 
to  model  a  bust  of  the  President.  His  likenesses  are  very  strik- 
ing, as  he  works  with  as  much  facility  as  a  painter,  indeed  more, 
as  he  suffers  the  original  to  walk  about  while  he  is  working, 
which  a  painter  could  not  do.  I  hope  he  will  find  many  others 
to  model,  as  I  know  that  his  purse  is  not  over  heavy.  Lest 
others,  however,  should  mistake  him  for  a  mere  sculptor  of 
busts,  I  may  here  observe  that  he  is  not  confined  to  portraits, 
but  has  studied  and  is  qualified  to  shine  in  the  highest  branch 
of  his  art,  the  inventive  ;  an  evidence  of  which  we  have  in 
his  '  Dead  Abel,'  an  original,  full-sized  statue,  which  he  brought 
home  from  Italy,  a  figure  of  beauty  and  truth,  and  such  a  first 
work  as  I  have  never  before  seen. 

"  Believe  me,  ever  truly  yours, 

"W.  Allston." 

From  Allston  to  Cogdell. 

"Boston,  March  21,  1828. 
"Deak  Cogdell  :  I  received  your  letter  of  the  8th  inst.  at  a 
late  hour  last  evening,  and  proceeded  to  answer  it  without  delay ; 
though  I  fear  that  on  the  point  on  which  you  are  so  desirous  of 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


217 


having  my  opinion  I  cannot  reply  with  that  decision  which  long 
experience  has  enabled  me  to  exercise  on  questions  relating  to 
my  own  branch  of  the  art.  It  is  certainly  true,  as  you  observe, 
that  more  expression  is  given  to  the  eye  by  carving  the  retina, 
and  yet  it  is  not  practised  by  the  moderns,  any  more  than  by  the 
ancients,  except  in  portraits.  In  this  branch  it  was  sometimes 
practised  by  the  Greeks,  especially  those  who  nourished  under 
the  Caesars ;  of  this  I  remember  an  instance,  in  the  head  of  the 
Emperor  Lucius  Verus.  But  why  it  should  be  confined  to  por- 
traits I  confess  I  can  see  no  good  reason.  Yet  the  sculptor 
might  be  able  to  assign  a  very  satisfactory  one.  Indeed,  on 
reflection,  I  cannot  but  think  they  are  governed  in  it  by  some 
sound  principle,  as  otherwise  the  practice  would  not  have  been 
so  universal ;  for  I  cannot  call  to  mind  an  example  to  the  con- 
trary in  any  ancient  statue  not  professedly  a  portrait.  I  state 
this  candidly,  lest  my  own  inability  to  account  for  it  should 
seem  to  incline  me  to  justify  a  departure  from  it.  But,  though 
the  question  may  be  said  to  lie  out  of  my  peculiar  province,  and 
is  consequently  one  on  which  I  should  speak  with  diffidence, 
there  is  yet  a  general  (maxim)  principle,  applicable  to  all  arts,  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  essential  to  their  successful  cultivation, 
concerning  which  I  feel  no  such  distrust,  namely,  that  if  the 
peculiar  process  or  mode  by  which  we  propose  to  produce  a 
desired  effect  be  the  suggestion  of  a  strong  impulse,  it  is  better 
to  risk  it  than  to  follow  the  prescription  of  any  authority  how- 
ever high.  It  is  only  (if  I  may  be  allowed  the  phrase)  by  thus 
acting  out  themselves  that  men  of  genius  originate  new  modes  of 
excellence  and  widen  the  sphere  of  intellect.  The  very  difficul- 
ties which  an  untried  course  presents  are  but  so  many  additional 
stimulants  to  invention,  which  often  grows,  like  the  fabled  sala- 
mander, after  six  years  unsuccessful  heating  of  the  furnace,  out 
of  the  fire  of  the  seventh.  When  our  rule  fails  it  is  time  enough 
to  adopt  that  of  others.     We  shall  adopt  it  then  with  more 


218 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


advantage  from  the  conviction  that  ours  was  insufficient.  But  I 
should  be  slow  to  give  up  any  strong  impulse,  in  anything  relat- 
ing to  the  art,  until  it  had  proved  its  own  insufficiency.  I  would 
first  give  it  fair  play,  and  convince  myself  before  I  deferred  to 
the  judgment  of  others.  Many  an  artist  has  drawn  the  world  after 
him  by  resolutely  following  the  path  which  it  had  predicted 
would  lead  to  nothing,  or  worse  than  nothing.  Two  painters, 
and  one  of  them  no  less  a  man  than  Tintoret,  advised  Ludovico 
Caracci  to  give  up  painting  for  some  other  employment  more 
suited  to  his  abilities ;  but  Ludovico  knew  what  was  in  him  ;  he 
persevered  and  became  the  founder  of  the  great  Bolognese  School. 

"If  I  have  expressed  myself  with  sufficient  clearness  you 
will  perceive  that  the  result  of  these  remarks  is  intended  to  con- 
firm you  in  the  mode  you  have  chosen  to  treat  your  subject,  that 
is,  to  express  the  retina.  If  you  do  it  to  satisfy  yourself,  I  think 
I  may  venture  to  say  that  you  will  be  more  likely  to  please 
others  than  if  you  followed  mere  authority  without  conviction. 
When  it  is  finished  let  me  know,  without  reserve,  what  you  think 
of  it  yourself.  I  am  glad  to  find  you  persevere,  and  congratulate 
you  on  your  success  in  General  Moultrie's  head.  By  the  way, 
J.  B.  Smith  has  lately  published  a  very  valuable  work  on  what 
he  calls  *  Picturesque  Anatomy,'  exhibiting  the  skeleton  through 
the  muscles.  It  is  copied  from  the  work  of  an  old  Spanish 
painter ;  and  though  the  outlines  are  in  bad  taste  (which  is  the 
fault  of  the  original)  it  is  the  best  treatise  for  an  artist  I  have 
seen.    I  will  send  you  a  copy  by  the  first  opportunity  by  water. 

"  As  for  myself,  I  am  well  at  present.  But  I  have  been  far 
otherwise,  having  had,  by  the  blessing  of  Providence,  a  narrow 
escape  from  death  —  so  near  that  the  doctor  said  had  he  been 
fifteen  minutes  later  I  should  have  died.  I  was  poisoned  by  eat- 
ing partridge.    God  bless  you. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"  W.  Allston." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


219 


From  Allston  to  Cogdell. 

"Boston,  August  3,  1828. 
"  Dear  Cogdell  :  It  was  my  wish  to  have  written  to  you 
long  ago,  but  many  things  have  prevented  me ;  among  others 
not  the  least  has  been  low  spirits,  for  I  have  had  much  to 
depress  me.  For  this  last  reason  I  doubt  not  you  will  readily, 
and  as  you  always  do,  kindly  excuse  the  delay.  It  has  been  in 
this,  as  in  many  other  instances,  no  slight  aggravation  of  my 
depression  that  it  unfitted  me  for  answering  those  calls  of 
friendship  and  duty  which  I  most  anxiously  desired  to  fulfil. 
But  I  never  like  to  speak  of  my  low  spirits,  and  always  avoid  it, 
unless  the  occasion  makes  it  necessary.  Such  an  occasion  seems 
to  me  the  present ;  and  I  mention  it  that  you  might  know  why 
I  have  so  long  delayed  telling  you  how  much  I  like  your  last 
work,  the  bust  of  General  Moultrie.  Though  I  expected  con- 
siderable improvement  on  your  first  effort,  I  found  it  very  much 
to  exceed  my  expectation,  and  most  heartily  do  I  congratulate 
you  on  your  success.  I  can  feel  no  doubt  as  to  the  strength  of 
the  likeness,  though  I  knew  not  the  old  patriot ;  I  feel  assured 
of  it  from  the  strong  individual  character  it  possesses — speaking 
to  the  spectator  in  the  language  of  a  peculiar  mind.  In  this  you 
have  effected  the  chief  purpose  of  the  sculptor's  art,  without 
which  the  most  expert  management  of  the  material,  or  the  most 
elaborate  finish,  is  but  the  triumph  of  the  craftsman.  Char- 
acter, character  in  your  art  as  well  as  in  mine,  is  that  which 
shows  the  artist,  since  it  is  the  fruit  of  the  intellect,  not  of  the 
hand  and  eye,  which  we  may  often  see  trained  to  a  high  degree 
of  skill,  with  but  small  aid  from  the  head.  Hogarth  used  to 
complain  bitterly  of  the  engravers  whom  he  occasionally  em- 
ployed to  assist  him,  some  of  them  his  superiors  too,  in  the 
mechanical  part,  though  not  to  be  named  with  him  in  mind. 
*  Hang  your  beautiful  lines,'  he  would  say ;  *  give  me  character, 


220 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


if  you  do  it  with  a  hobnail.'  He  often  obliterated  weeks  of 
their  fine  work  without  compunction.  I  think  it  is  hardly  neces- 
sary for  me  to  say  '  Go  on,'  for  you  ought  now  to  feel  confidence 
in  yourself.  If  you  have  it  not,  I  hope  my  sincere  testimony 
will  impart  some.  For  as  confidence  in  a  weak  mind  must 
always,  from  increasing  its  weakness,  end  either  in  vanity  or 
despair,  so  in  a  strong  one  will  the  want  of  it  render  its  very 
strength  abortive.  And  I  doubt  if  as  many  men  have  not  failed 
from  distrusting  as  from  overrating  their  powers.  Let  me 
therefore  urge  you  to  rely  on  the  strength  which  you  have  shown 
you  possess,  as  one  of  the  essentials  of  success. 

"  You  have  probably  heard  of  our  friend  Stuart's  death. 
He  had  been  breaking  above  a  year  past,  and  he  seemed  to  have 
been  aware  for  some  months  before  that  he  could  not  survive 
long.  The  art  as  well  as  his  country  has  suffered  a  loss  in  him 
that  will  not  soon  be  supplied.  The  infirmities  under  which 
he  labored,  even  during  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  though 
they  kept  him  poor,  did  not  however,  as  his  later  works  bear 
witness,  extend  to  his  mind.  His  mind  indeed  was  vigorous  to 
the  last,  and  his  bereaved  family  have  this  consolation,  that  he 
has  left  nothing  in  his  Art,  old  and  infirm  as  he  was,  to  take 
from  his  great  name.  'Tis,  alas  !  the  only  consolation  he  had 
it  in  his  power  to  leave  them,  for  they  are  quite  destitute.  But 
they  have  not  been  without  sympathy  from  the  people  of  Bos- 
ton, who  have  got  up  an  exhibition  of  such  of  his  works  as  could 
be  collected,  for  their  benefit ;  in  addition  to  which  they  have 
opened  a  subscription  for  the  purchase  of  his  '  Head  of  Wash- 
ington,' at  two  thousand  dollars,  for  the  Athenaeum.  If  your 
Annual  Exhibition  were  profitable  (which  I  think  I  understood 
you  to  say  it  was  not)  I  should  propose  you  granting  them  the 
benefit  of  a  week  or  two  during  your  next  season.  I  wrote  a 
short  notice  of  Mr.  Stuart,  which  was  published  in  the  Boston 
Daily  Advertiser  of  July  22d  ;  if  it  has  not  been  copied  in  your 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


221 


papers  you  will  probably  meet  with  it  at  some  of  the  news- 
paper offices. 

"  Ever  your  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 

From  Allston  to  Cogdell. 

"Boston,  December  21,  1828. 

"  My  Dear  Cogdell  : 

[Portion  referring  to  C.'s  recent  visit  to  Boston  has  been 
omitted.] 

"  I  should  have  liked  to  have  talked  with  you  whole  days 
about  the  art,  and  to  have  hunted  up  together  every  picture  in 
the  town  and  neighborhood,  but  of  that  pleasure,  as  well  as 
many  others,  I  was  constrained  not  to  think,  being  then  (as  I 
still  am)  '  Belshazzar's '  slave,  as  much  so  indeed  as  the  Genie  was 
to  Aladdin's  lamp ;  I  wish  I  could  add  with  equal  power  to  per- 
form my  master's  behests ;  but  the  painter's  magic,  as  long  ex- 
perience has  taught  me,  is  no  1  hey,  presto,'  work.  Indeed  it  is 
work — that  is,  labor,  though  of  the  brain,  yet  labor,  which  makes 
it,  as  the  world  might  think,  no  magic  at  all.  This  truth  would 
perhaps  have  been  received  by  me  with  an  ill  grace  some  twenty 
years  ago,  if  at  all,  by  a  youthful  brain  full  of  magnificent  proj- 
ects. I  thought  then,  and  I  suppose  like  most  young  artists,  that 
I  had  only  to  dream  dreams,  and  the  hand  would  immediately 
embody  them ;  and  so  it  did  after  a  fashion,  that  is,  it  put  some- 
thing on  canvas,  which,  by  the  help  of  another  dream,  I  made 
to  resemble  the  first.  But  a  man  who  follows  up  making  dreams, 
like  him  who  follows  up  any  other  (intellectual)  manufacture, 
soon  comes  to  have  a  larger  apprehension  of  his  business ;  he 
also  sees  clearer  as  well  as  farther  every  time,  every  day ;  what 
was  before  simple  becomes  complex,  what  seemed  one,  a  thing 
of  many  parts,  all  having  relation  one  to  another,  and  each  to 
the  whole ;  what  was  apparently  plain  and  easy,  intricate  and 
subtle ;  in  short,  the  changes  stop  not  till  he  seems,  as  it  were,  to 


222 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


see  quite  another  thing,  and  with  other  eyes.  But  does  not  his 
power  increase  with  his  knowledge  ?  Certainly.  Yet  his  labor  at 
the  same  time  accumulates,  since  his  knowledge  only  informs 
him  that  he  has  more  to  do.  Thus  must  it  be  with  every  artist, 
if  he  is  not  content  to  repeat  himself.  If  he  have  a  true  love  of 
excellence,  and  the  pursuit  of  it  be  his  real  object,  he  will  find  it 
(I  should  think)  impossible  to  huddle  one  defect  for  the  sake  of 
sparing  himself  labor.  And  if  his  aim  be  excellence,  though 
every  day  makes  it  more  distinct,  yet  every  day  also  shows  its  at- 
tainment to  be  more  arduous.  A  sanguine  youth  may  here  ask, 
'  Who  then  would  be  a  painter  ?  '  That  same  youth,  if  he  have 
the  courage  to  grow  old  in  his  art,  might  hereafter  answer, 
'  Himself.'  For  he  would  then  have  learned  that  to  overcome  a 
difficulty  is  to  create  a  pleasure.  To  advance  is  a  law  of  the 
mind ;  and  (so  its  object  be  innocent)  every  obstacle  removed 
clears  away  a  step  nearer  happiness.  To  labor,  then,  is  both 
natural  and  desirable,  and  wise,  since  a  wise  Providence  has  so 
ordained  it.  What  artist  would  complain  of  labor  ?  Not  I,  for 
one.  As  it  respects  the  pleasure  in  my  art,  I  certainly  appre- 
ciate the  moral  value  of  labor  too  well  to  complain  of  it.  And 
yet  this  one  picture,  on  which  I  am  now  employed,  has  caused 
me  many  and  many  an  anxious  day.  And  why  ?  Because  on 
this  alone  depends  so  much  besides  fame.  For  on  this  alone 
has  for  many  years  depended  the  long-hoped  for  meeting  with  a 
good  mother  and  so  many  other  dear  relatives.  But  do  not 
think  I  am  repining,  deeply  anxious  as  I  have  felt,  and  still  feel ; 
I  may  grieve,  but  not  repine.  It  becomes  not  a  man  of  sense 
nor  a  Christian  to  repine  at  what  he  cannot  help.  I  have  been 
long  schooled  to  patience  and  submission ;  I  endeavor  to  prac- 
tise them  as  Christian  duties.  I  am  doing  my  best,  and  this 
sustains  me,  and  with  Heaven's  blessing  I  look  forward  to  a 
happy  conclusion. 

"  Your  account  of  Mr.  West's  picture,  as  well  as  I  recollect 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


223 


it,  seems  to  me  very  just ;  and  I  perfectly  agree  with  you  in 
your  criticism  of  the  figure  of  the  Saviour.  Yet  Mr.  West  has 
only  added  one  to  the  uniform  failures  of  all  his  predecessors. 
It  is,  indeed,  as  you  have  truly  said,  '  a  face  no  mortal  has  ever 
or  can  ever  portray.'  And  it  is  one  which  I  have  long  since  re- 
solved never  to  attempt.  I  sincerely  thank  you  for  the  kind 
feeling  manifested  in  the  concluding  remarks  of  your  letter. 
What  I  have  to  say  on  the  subject  I  must  defer  till  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  in  Charleston,  which  I  still  hope  for  this 
winter,  though  it  will  be  much  later  in  the  season  than  I  had 
calculated ;  for  '  Belshazzar,'  though  near  a  close,  is  still  unfin- 
ished in  spite  of  all  my  efforts. 

"  Believe  me,  with  sincerest  respect  and  esteem,  truly  yours, 

"  W.  Allston." 

From  Horatio  Greenough  to  Allston. 

"  Florence,  November  17,  1829. 

"  I  have  tried  the  receipt  you  gave  me  for  a  palette,  and 
hope  one  day  to  arrive  at  proficiency  enough  in  painting  to  paint 
a  portrait  for  my  amusement,  now  and  then ;  but  let  me  protest 
that  of  all  subjects  which  I  have  ever  attempted  to  understand, 
color  is  the  most  subtle,  unattainable,  and  incomprehensible, 
and  by  long  examination  I  think  I  have  found  that  compara- 
tively few  pictures  are  colored.  Even  those  of  name,  some  are 
drawn  in  chiaro-oscuro  with  paint,  somewhat  approximating  in 
its  general  tint  to  seem  so.  Others  are  painted  in  downright 
light  and  shade  with  a  little  tinge  of  color  glazed  into  them. 
Almost  all  seem  to  have  had  a  conventional  palette,  which  is  too 
partially  or  generally  reasoned  to  embrace  the  variety  of  nature, 
or  to  render  her  delicate  distinctions.  Titian  is  my  man,  and 
some  of  the  Dutchmen,  too,  please  me  quite  as  much.  There  is 
a  picture  in  the  Flemish  room,  by  Giorgione,  of  Yenus  on  a  car 


224 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


with  Love  by  her  side,  and  several  marine  deities  about  her, 
which  is  one  of  the  most  luxurious  bursts  of  light  and  color  that 
ever  feasted  the  eye — such  a  union  of  brilliance  and  harmony 
as  really  surpasses,  I  think,  everything  Italian  I  have  seen. 

"  I  found  my  way  the  other  day  to  a  chamber  in  the  gallery, 
which  seemed  to  me  worth  all  I  had  yet  seen,  'twas  filled  with 
Venetians — Titian,  Paul  V.,  Bassano,  Giorgione,  etc.  What  brill- 
iancy is  there !  "What  music  of  color !  What  grandeur  of 
masses !  I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  it  is  only  when  I  see  a  pict- 
ure of  one  of  these  men  that  I  forget  my  own  art  and  long  to  be 
a  painter." 

"Florence,  April  18,  1829. 

"  I  would  give  more  for  one  impression  than  for  three  unan- 
swerable arguments  on  a  question  of  art,  for  words  are  clumsy 
things  after  all.  I  remember  that  when  with  you  once  at  Cam- 
bridge I  asked  your  opinion  on  some  doubtful  point  relating  to 
art,  and  that  you  said  an  answer  to  my  question  would  cost  you 
at  least  three  cigars. 

"  Sure  am  I  that  it  would  require  that  number  to  fit  me  to 
describe  to  you  my  gratification  on  reading  the  verses  you  wrote 
on  my  groups,  which  lately  reached  me  in  a  letter  from  my 
brother  Harry.  I  believe,  my  dear  sir,  that  gratified  vanity  was 
not  the  foremost  or  strongest  of  my  pleasures,  for  your  verses 
were  as  far  from  being  addressed  to  minds  of  that  class  as  my 
composition  was  from  being  adapted  to  their  tastes." 

From  Leslie  to  Allston. 

"  41  Portman  Place,  Edgeware  Road, 
"  London,  February  17,  1830. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  don't  know  whose  fault  it  is  that  our  cor- 
respondence has  suffered  so  long  an  interruption.  But  I  am 
willing  to  take  any  share  of  the  blame  you  will  lay  on  me  pro- 
vided you  will  be  quick  in  bestowing  it,  and  indeed  the  dread  of 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


225 


it  is  not  very  great,  knowing  as  I  do  how  gently  you  deal  with 
all  who  deserve  blame.  Our  friend  Morse,  during  the  short  visit 
he  paid  to  London  on  his  way  to  Italy,  was  unable  to  execute  a 
little  commission  for  you  and  desired  me  to  attend  to  it.  On 
receiving  the  twenty  pounds  from  Brockhedon,  and  telling  him 
that  you  wished  me  to  purchase  an  ounce  of  ultramarine  with 
part  of  it,  he  insisted  on  sending  you  some,  of  which  he  brought 
a  large  quantity  from  Italy.  I  have  handed  fourteen  pounds  to 
Greenough,  and  have  six  more  remaining  till  I  hear  from  you 
what  I  am  to  do  with  it.* 

"  In  the  hope  of  provoking  a  retaliation  in  kind  from  you,  I 
have  a  mind  to  give  you  a  full  account  of  myself.  Here  I  am, 
then,  with  a  wife  and  three  children  (one  boy  and  two  girls)  liv- 
ing in  a  home  but  two  doors  from  one  that  was  inhabited  by 
my  father  and  mother  thirty  years  ago,  when  I  was  an  urchin. 
I  take  my  boy,  Robert,  who  is  my  eldest,  a  walking  by  the  Pad- 
dington  Canal,  where  my  father  took  me  when  about  his  age,  to 
see  the  men  digging.  One  of  my  sisters  came  from  America  in 
the  same  ship  with  Morse,  and  is  living  with  us. 

"I  am  now  painting  a  picture  from  the  'Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor,'  in  which  I  have  introduced  nearly  all  the  characters. 
I  imagine  them  to  be  assembled  after  dinner  at  Mr.  Pages 
house,  who,  you  remember,  had  invited  them  to  make  up  the 
quarrel  between  Falstaff  and  Shallow,  over  a  venison  pasty. 
Falstqff  will  be  flirting  with  the  two  ladies,  and  Slender,  seated 
sheepishly  by  Anne  Page.  Mr.  Page  is  offering  the  latter  some 
ale  from  his  best  silver  goblet,  by  way  of  making  him  feel  at 
home.  Behind  Falstaff  are  Pistol,  Nym,  and  Bardolph,  laying 
their  heads  together,  and  perhaps  plotting  some  new  roguery. 
Beyond  them  are  Sir  Hugh  Evans  and  Shallow.    The  dinner  is 

*  Dana  appends  to  this  the  following  note:  "  John  Greenough  was  in  London 
and  extremely  poor  and  Allston,  at  this  time  suffering  deep  distress  of  mind  for 
want  of  money,  and  paralyzed  in  his  art  by  it,  could  not  resist  disposing  of  that 
which,  if  sent  home  to  him,  would  have  been  at  least  a  momentary  relief." 
15 


226 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


just  removed,  and  on  a  side-table  are  the  '  pippins  and  cheese,' 
of  which  Sir  Hugh  makes  mention  in  the  play.  I  hope  to  get 
this  picture  ready  for  the  Exhibition,  and  if  so  I  shall  have  been 
quicker  with  it  than  anything  I  have  painted.  I  believe  I  have 
lost  at  least  half  my  life  in  making  alterations  in  my  pictures, 
most  of  which  were  perhaps  mere  changes  and  additions  without 
being  improvements.  My  wife  and  children  are  powerful  per- 
suaders to  a  more  rapid  course  of  proceeding. 

"  You  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  although  I  have  had 
constant  employment  for  the  last  fourteen  years,  I  am  as  poor 
as  when  you  were  here.  I  am  not  more  extravagant,  and  my  ex- 
penses are  only  the  necessary  ones  of  my  family.  I  believe, 
however,  I  can  paint  better  and  quicker  than  I  ever  could,  and 
I  have  a  prospect  of  doing  something  by  publishing  prints  of 
my  pictures.  I  now  feel  as  if  I  was  really  in  earnest  and  all  my 
past  life  but  a  dream.  I  sigh  in  vain  over  time  lost  in  all  sorts 
of  trifling,  and  make  sturdy  resolutions  to  go  on  vigorously,  and, 
as  I  hope,  in  the  right  path  for  the  future.  When  I  recur  to  our 
former  intimacy,  I  feel  sure  it  is  to  you  I  owe  my  first  relish  for 
all  the  best  qualities  in  Art.  Many  of  your  maxims  that  I  was 
not  capable  of  comprehending  when  I  heard  them,  now  come 
home  to  me  with  the  fullest  conviction  of  their  truth.  I  wish 
you  were  here,  and  I  cannot  but  think  you  will  come ;  I  think 
also  you  would  now  be  appreciated  and  patronized.  I  hear  but 
little  of  you  from  Americans  who  come  here.  They  all  describe 
you  as  living  very  retired.  They  agree  in  the  account  that  you 
have  painted  many  small  pictures  and  that  you  have  sold  them 
all  advantageously,  but  that  your  large  '  Belshazzar '  is  still  un- 
finished. I  have  no  doubt  you  have  painted  twenty  fine  pictures 
on  the  canvas  of  that  one.  What  a  pity  they  could  not  be  sepa- 
rated. I  dare  say  you  might  finish  it  as  well  in  three  days  as  in 
three  years  if  you  would  have  the  resolution.  I  wish  you  would, 
and  then  come  immediately  to  England.    With  the  exception 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


227 


of  Mr.  West  and  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  I  believe  you  were  not 
much  acquainted  with  the  principal  artists  here.  You  would 
now  be,  and  I  am  sure  you  would  enjoy  their  society  as  much 
as  I  do. 

"  I  need  say  nothing  of  the  death  of  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence, 
of  which,  I  dare  say,  full  accounts  have  reached  the  American 
newspapers.  His  loss  is  much  felt  in  the  immediate  circle  of 
his  friends  who  well  knew  the  great  kindness  of  his  heart.  I 
remember  well  his  passing  by  on  horseback  just  as  you  were 
stepping  into  the  coach  to  leave  London.  The  farewell  you 
took  of  each  other  was  forever  ;  ours,  I  trust  was  not.  When- 
ever you  come  you  will  find  all  your  friends,  who  may  be  left, 
unchanged,  I  assure  you.  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  man  on 
earth  for  whom  Coleridge  has  a  higher  regard  than  he  has  for 
you.  Lord  Egremont  speaks  frequently  of  you.  He  says  he 
thinks  there  is  more  of  the  spirit  of  Kaffaelle  in  your  '  Jacob's 
Dream '  than  in  any  picture  he  knows  of  painted  since  his  time. 
Pray  remember  me  kindly  to  Mr.  Channing,  who,  I  now  hear, 
with  great  pleasure,  enjoys  perfect  health.  I  have  his  essays  on 
Bonaparte  and  on  Milton,  both  of  which  I  read  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  and  admiration  of  his  talents  and  of  his  heart. 

"  My  wife,  who  feels  as  if  she  knew  you,  begs  me  to  offer  her 
best  respects  to  you,  and  I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  ever, 

"  C.  E.  Leslie. 

"  P.S. — I  ought  to  tell  you  that  the  Anne  Page  in  my  pict- 
ure is  painted  from  Mr.  West's  granddaughter,  whom  you  must 
remember  as  a  beautiful  child  of  thirteen  or  fourteen.  She  is 
now  married  to  a  Mr.  Margany,  and  is  still  very  handsome." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN  ALLSTON  AND  VERPLANCK  IN  RELATION 
TO  PAINTINGS  FOR  THE  CAPITOL  AT  WASHINGTON,  1830. — ALL- 
ston's  SECOND  MARRIAGE  AND  SETTLEMENT  IN  CAMBRIDGEPORT. 
— ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  DAILY  LIFE  AND  HABITS. — HIS  LIBERALITY  IN 
RELIGION. 

During  the  year  1830  an  interesting  correspondence  passed 
between  Allston  and  Gulian  C.  Yerplanck,  in  relation  to  pictures 
for  the  Capitol  at  Washington.  Yerplanck  was  a  man  of  let- 
ters, and  was  a  conspicuous  figure  in  public  life  when  politics 
and  gentlemen  were  allied.  He  was  Chairman  of  the  Committee 
of  the  House  of  Representatives  on  Public  Buildings.  He 
wished  Allston  to  fill,  by  pictures  of  suitable  subjects,  two  of  the 
panels  in  the  Rotunda  of  the  Capitol,  and  accordingly  obtained  for 
him  from  Congress  an  order  to  paint  them.  The  many  advan- 
tages secured  by  such  an  order,  especially  for  one  in  need  of 
money,  must  have  been  very  tempting  to  Allston,  and  from  the 
stand-point  of  ordinary  men  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  he 
could  refuse  it. 

In  declining  the  distinguished  honor  conferred  by  assigning 
so  large  a  space  for  his  work  in  the  Rotunda,  Allston  shows  the 
largeness  of  his  generosity  and  his  freedom  from  all  selfish  in- 
fluences. He  recommended,  as  his  substitutes,  Morse  and  Yan- 
derlyn,  and  with  no  half-hearted  commendation,  but  in  terms  of 
cordial  approval,  as  men  competent  to  execute  the  work.  Among 
his  reasons  for  declining  to  paint  the  pictures  for  the  Government 
was  his  inexperience  in  the  line  of  subjects  to  which  he  might  be 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


229 


restricted.  But  he  had  said,  that  though  unused  to  battle-pieces, 
he  sometimes  thought  he  would  like  to  try  his  hand  at  one  in 
which  he  could  introduce  Indians,  with  their  picturesque  cos- 
tumes, and  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  had  it  not  been  for  the 
unfinished  condition  of  "  Belshazzar,"  he  would  have  overcome 
his  objections  and  undertaken  at  least  one  of  the  panels. 

From  Verplanck  to  R.  H.  Dana. 

"  Washington,  February  17,  1830. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  have  this  moment  written  to  Allston  about 
a  picture  for  our  public  buildings  from  his  hand,  which,  as  Chair- 
man of  the  Committee  on  Public  Buildings,  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  get  ordered  by  Congress,  and  passed  in  our  general  bill  for 
the  buildings,  etc.,  without  any  flourish,  or  limiting  him  to  any 
subject  of  the  day.  I  hope  he  will  answer  me  without  delay, 
and  I  must  rely  upon  you  to  make  him  do  so. 

"  Before  I  leave  Congress  I  trust  to  do  the  state  some  service 
by  reducing  the  magnificent  uselessness  of  our  hall,  and  leaving  it 
to  my  successors  in  a  state  where  common-sense  can  be  spoken 
and  heard,  and  where  a  shrill  voice  or  else  the  lungs  of  a  Stentor 
will  not  be  the  chief  requisites  of  a  Congressional  orator.  In 
other  words,  I  am  very  busy  in  studying  both  the  theory  and 
practice  of  acoustics,  for  the  purpose  of  improving  the  hall,  and 
I  am  convinced  that  such  a  reform  would  do  more  for  the  legis- 
lature, as  well  as  its  taste  and  eloquence,  than  any  law  or  con- 
stitutional amendment.  I  feel  that  I  cannot  fill  my  sheet  with 
anything  worth  reading,  and  having  begun  with  the  benevolent 
intention  of  making  you  act  as  Allston's  flapper,  according  to  the 
Laputan  usage,  must  end  by  again  urging  upon  you  that  duty. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  G.  C.  Verplanck." 


230 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


From  Allston  to  Verplanch. 

"  Cambridge,  Mass.,  March  1,  1830. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  did  not  get  your  letter  of  the  17th  ult. 
intil  the  night  before  last  (Saturday),  and  I  shall  endeavor, 
igreeably  to  your  wishes,  to  answer  it  in  a  business-like  manner, 
though  I  have,  I  fear,  but  little  of  that  laconic  spirit,  so  essen- 
tial to  it,  which  I  used  so  much  to  admire  in  our  excellent  friend 
S.  Williams,  of  Finsbury  Square.  Without  more  flourish,  then, 
you  could  not  desire  to  be  more  heartily  thanked  than  I  thank 
you  for  this  additional  instance  of  the  friendship  with  which  you 
honor  me.  These  are  not  words  of  courtesy,  but  of  grateful 
truth,  and  yet  I  fear  there  are  certain  formidable,  and  to  my 
present  apprehension,  insurmountable  obstacles  to  my  profiting 
by  your  kindness.  The  subjects  from  which  I  am  to  choose, 
you  say,  are  limited  to  American  History.  The  most  prominent 
of  these,  indeed  the  only  ones  that  occur  to  me,  are  in  our  mili- 
tary and  naval  achievements.  Herein  lies  my  difficulty.  I  will 
not  say  that  I  doubt— I  know  that  I  have  not — any  talent  for  bat- 
tle-pieces ;  and,  perhaps,  because  they  have  always  appeared  to 
me,  from  their  very  nature,  incapable  of  being  justly  represented ; 
for,  to  say  nothing  of  the  ominous  prelude  of  silent  emotion,  when 
you  take  away  the  excessive  movement,  the  dash  of  arms,  the 
deadly  roll  of  the  drum,  the  blast  of  the  trumpet,  forcing  almost 
a  heart  into  a  coward,  the  rush  of  cavalry,  the  thunder  of  artil- 
lery, and  the  still  more  fearful  din  of  human  thunder,  giving  a 
terrific  life  to  the  whole — and  all  this  must  be  taken  from  the 
painter — what  is  there  left  for  his  canvas?  It  seems  tome  (at 
least  in  comparison  with  the  living  whole)  caput  mortuum.  All 
these  things,  and  indeed  much  more,  can  be  made  present  to  the 
imagination  by  words.  In  this  the  poet  and  historian  have  the 
advantage  of  the  painter.    I  know  not  where,  even  among  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


231 


great  names  of  my  art,  to  look  for  anything  like  the  living  mass 
of  one  of  Cooper's  battles ;  there  are  besides  many  circumstances 
connected  with  these  subjects,  such  as  monotony  of  color,  of  cos- 
tume, of  form,  together  with  a  smallness  of  parts  (ever  fatal  to 
breadth  and  grandeur),  that  make  them,  at  least  to  me,  wholly 
untranslatable  in  the  painter's  language.  The  monotony  of  color 
alone  would  paralyze  my  hand.  Such  being  my  opinion,  you  will 
easily  believe  that  I  could  have  no  hope  of  succeeding  in  sub- 
jects of  this  nature.  Indeed  I  know  from  past  experience  that  I 
must  fail  when  the  subject  is  not  of  myself,  that  is,  in  relation 
to  the  powers  of  my  art,  essentially  exciting.  In  a  pecuniary 
view  it  has  been,  perhaps,  my  misfortune  to  have  inherited  a 
patrimony,  since  it  has  lasted  only  just  long  enough  to  allow  my 
mind  to  take  its  own  course  till  its  habits  of  thought  had  become 
rigid  and  too  fixed  to  be  changed  when  change  was  desirable. 
To  be  more  intelligible,  having  in  the  commencement  of  my  art, 
and  for  the  greater  part  of  my  subsequent  life,  only  the  pleasure 
of  its  pursuit  to  consult,  I  of  course  engaged  in  nothing  which 
had  not  that  for  its  chief  end — the  realizing  of  my  conceptions 
being  my  chief  reward ;  for  though  the  pecuniary  profit  was  al- 
ways an  acceptable  contingency,  it  was  never  at  that  time  an  ex- 
citing cause ;  so  far  from  it,  that  I  have  in  some  instances  under- 
taken works  for  less  than  I  knew  they  would  cost.  As  an  artist 
I  cannot,  in  spite  of  many  troubles,  regret  this  freedom  of  action, 
since  I  feel  of  such  that  I  owe  to  it  whatever  professional  skill  I 
may  possess.  But  of  late  years,  since  the  source  of  this  liberty 
has  been  dried  up,  and  the  cold  current  of  necessity  has  sprung 
up  in  its  stead,  I  have  sometimes,  as  a  man,  almost  felt  the  pos- 
session to  have  been  a  misfortune,  for  necessity,  I  find,  has  no  in- 
spiration ;  she  has  not  with  me  even  the  forcing  power.  Will- 
ingly, most  willingly,  would  I  have  been  driven  by  her,  but  it 
seems  that  at  my  age  it  cannot  be  ;  my  imagination  has  become 
too  fixed  in  its  own  peculiar  orbit  to  be  moved  by  anything  ex- 


232 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


trinsic.  In  other  words,  it  seems  to  me  almost  morally  impossi- 
ble to  compose,  much  less  to  finish,  a  picture  where  the  subject 
does  not  afford  pleasurable  excitement.  I  trust  you  know  me  too 
well  to  doubt  my  patriotism  because  I  cannot  be  inspired  to 
paint  an  American  battle.  I  yield  in  love  of  country  to  no  man  ; 
no  one  has  gloried  more  in  the  success  of  her  arms,  or  more  sin- 
cerely honored  the  gallant  spirits  whose  victories  have  given  her 
a  name  among  nations.  But  they  need  not  my  pencil  to  make 
their  deeds  known  to  posterity.  Could  I  embody  them  as  they 
deserve,  or  even  make  others  feel  what  I  have  felt,  as  the  fame  of 
them  came  to  me  across  the  water,  while  I  was  in  kind,  hospita- 
ble Old  England  (for  such,  even  while  a  foe  to  my  country,  she 
ever  was  to  me)  ;  could  I  send  that  hearty  breeze  from  our  gal- 
lant native  land  to  their  hearts,  there  would  be  no  lack  of  inspira- 
tion. I  would  invest  them  with  the  grandeur  of  my  art,  or  touch 
them  not.  But  the  power  is  not  mine.  I  know  you  will  not 
doubt  the  sincerity  of  this  conviction,  but  you  will  better  esti- 
mate the  strength  of  it  when  I  add  that  at  no  time  would  the 
commission  you  propose  be  more  acceptable  to  me  in  a  pecuniary 
view  than  at  present. 

"  But  may  there  not  be  some  eligible  subject  in  our  civil  his- 
tory ?  For  myself  I  can  think  of  none  that  would  make  a  picture  ; 
of  none,  at  least,  that  belongs  to  high  art.  But  such  a  subject 
might  possibly  have  occurred  to  you.  If  so,  and  I  find  it  one  from 
which  I  can  make  such  a  picture  as  you  would  have  me  paint, 
both  for  my  own  credit  and  that  of  the  nation,  be  assured  I  will 
most  gladly  undertake  it.  I  am  persuaded,  however,  that  you 
will  agree  with  me  in  this,  that  no  consideration  of  interest 
should  induce  me  to  accept  any  commission  from  the  Government 
that  will  not  tax  my  powers  to  their  utmost.  My  best,  indeed, 
may  be  all  unworthy,  but  less  than  that  my  country  shall  not 
have.  In  the  meantime,  that  is,  till  a  practicable  subject  is 
f  ound,  I  must  beg  you  to  suspend,  if  such  is  in  progress,  *  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


233 


order  for  a  picture.'  You  will  readily  appreciate  the  motive  for 
this  request,  namely,  to  avoid  the  censure  which  the  good- 
natured  world  are  ever  too  disposed  to  bestow  on  all  those  who 
seem  wanting  to  their  own  interests.  I  know  the  world  too  well 
not  to  foresee  that  it  would  do  me  essential  injury  were  it  known 
that  I  declined  such  a  commission.  They  would  not  understand 
the  impracticability  I  have  stated,  were  they  even  made  ac- 
quainted with  it.  Neither  would  they  believe  how  grievous  to 
me  was  the  necessity  of  declining  it. 

"  There  is  another  class  of  subject,  however,  in  which,  were  I 
permitted  to  choose  from  it,  I  should  find  exciting  matter  enough, 
and  more  than  enough,  for  my  imperfect  skill,  that  is,  from  Scrip- 
ture. But  I  fear  this  is  a  forlorn  hope.  Yet  why  should  it  be  ? 
This  is  a  Christian  land,  and  the  Scriptures  belong  to  no  country, 
but  to  man.  The  facts  they  record  come  home  to  all  men,  to  the 
high  and  the  low,  the  wise  and  simple ;  but  I  need  not  enlarge 
on  this  topic  to  you.  Should  the  Government  allow  me  to  select 
a  subject  from  them,  I  need  not  say  with  what  delight  I  should 
accept  the  commission.  With  such  a  source  of  inspiration  and 
the  glory  of  painting  for  my  country,  if  there  be  anything  in  me, 
it  must  come  out.  Would  it  might  be  so  !  But  let  us  suppose 
it.  Well,  supposing  such  a  commission  given,  there's  a  subject 
already  composed  in  petto,  which  I  have  long  intended  to  paint 
as  soon  as  I  am  at  liberty — the  three  Marys  at  the  tomb  of  the 
Saviour,  the  angel  sitting  on  a  stone  before  the  mouth  of  the 
sepulchre.  I  consider  this  one  of  my  happiest  conceptions.  The 
terrible  beauty  of  the  angel,  his  preternatural  brightness,  the 
varied  emotions  of  wonder,  awe,  and  bewilderment  of  the  three 
women,  the  streak  of  distant  daybreak,  lighting  the  city  of 
Jerusalem  out  of  the  darkness,  and  the  deep-toned  spell  of  the 
chiaro-oscuro,  mingling  as  it  were  the  night  with  the  day,  I  see 
now  before  me ;  I  wish  I  could  see  them  on  the  walls  at  Wash- 
ington. 


234: 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"  Now  as  to  the  price,  should  such  a  dream,  I  will  not  call  it 
hope,  be  realized,  it  would  be  eight  thousand  dollars,  which  I 
believe  was  the  price  given  to  Colonel  Trumbull  for  each  of  his 
pictures.  I  should  not  indeed  refuse  ten  thousand,  should  Uncle 
Sam  take  the  generous  fit  upon  him  to  offer  it ;  but  eight  is  my 
price  for  that  particular  composition,  which  would  consist  of  four 
figures,  seven  feet  high  ;  the  picture  itself  (an  upright)  twelve  or 
thirteen  feet  high  and  ten  or  twelve  wide.  Were  I  to  undertake 
a  larger  composition  from  another  subject,  and  of  the  dimensions 
of  Colonel  Trumbull's,  which  I  think  are  eighteen  by  twelve,  the 
price  would  be  then  ten  or  twelve  thousand.  I  fear  this  last 
sum  would  frighten  some  of  your  grave  members ;  my  conscience 
would,  however,  be  quite  safe  in  making  the  demand,  were  it 
even  more.  And  I  think  I  have  already  given  the  world  suffi- 
cient proof  that  I  am  not  mercenary. 

"  Pray  do  not  let  any  part  of  this  letter  get  into  print.  I  beg 
you  will  not  think  from  anything  I  have  said  that  I  intend  any 
disrespect  to  the  painters  of  battles,  or  that  I  would  underrate 
such  pictures  ;  I  meant  only  to  express  my  own  peculiar  notions 
of  them  as  picturable  subjects,  quoad,  myself.  There  are  many 
of  deserved  reputation  which  show  great  skill  in  their  authors ; 
and  among  those  of  modern  date  it  would  be  unjust  not  to  men- 
tion, as  holding  the  very  first  rank,  Mr.  "West's  *  Wolf,'  and  the 
'  Death  of  Warren  and  Montgomery,'  and  the  '  Sortie,'  by  Colonel 
Trumbull. 

"  Truly  you  might  say,  our  good  friend's  laconic  mantle  has 
not  fallen  on  the  writer  of  this  epistle  ;  I  believe  if  I  could  write 
shorter  letters  I  should  be  a  better  correspondent,  but  I  have 
not  the  secret. 

"  Ever  most  truly  yours, 

"W.  Allston." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


235 


From  Verplanck  to  Allston. 

"Washington,  March  9, 1830. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  Your  letter  only  convinces  me  the  more  that 
we  must,  if  we  can,  have  one  specimen  of  '  high  art '  on  the  wall 
of  the  Capitol.  By  American  history  mere  revolutionary  his- 
tory is  not  meant.  To  Scripture  I  fear  we  cannot  go  in  the 
present  state  of  public  opinion  and  taste.  But  does  our  ante- 
revolutionary  history  present  no  subject  ?  The  '  Landing  of  the 
Pilgrims,'  a  threadbare  subject  in  some  respects,  has  never  been 
viewed  with  a  poet's  and  painter's  eye.  What  think  you  of  that, 
or  of  any  similar  subject  in  our  early  history  ?  Your  townsman, 
Dr.  Holmes,  has  recently  published  a  very  useful,  though  not 
important,  book  of  '  Annals.'  A  hasty  glance  over  the  first  vol- 
ume of  this  would  perhaps  suggest  some  idea.  If  not,  I  still 
fall  back  upon  the  1  Pilgrims.'  I  have  read  your  letter  to  Colonel 
Drayton,  who  fully  agrees  with  me  in  honoring  your  feeling 
upon  this  subject,  and  still  wishes  to  call  upon  your  services  in 
embellishing  our  national  annals.  Emulating  our  friend  Will- 
iams, not  from  choice,  but  from  the  wish  not  to  lose  the  mail,  I 
will  not  turn  over  the  leaf. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  G.  C.  Verplanck." 

From  Allston  to  Verplanck. 

"  Cambridgeport,  March  29,  1830. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  Your  two  letters,  of  the  9th  and  12th,  have, 
as  the  business  phrase  is,  duly  come  to  hand ;  as  you  full 
well  know  that  I  cannot  be  insensible  to  such  persevering  kind- 
ness I  will  not  trouble  you  with  a  repetition  of  thanks,  but  pro- 
ceed to  answer  them  in  as  business-like  a  way  as  I  can. 


236 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"To  the  first  subject  you  propose,  'The  Landing  of  the 
Pilgrims '  (not  unpicturesque),  I  have  a  personal  objection.  It 
has  already  been  painted  by  an  old  friend  of  mine,  Colonel 
Sargent,  a  high-minded,  honorable  man,  to  whom  I  would  on  no 
account  give  pain ;  which  I  could  not  avoid  doing  were  I  to  en- 
croach on  what,  at  the  expense  of  several  years'  labor,  he  has  a 
fair  right  to  consider  as  his  ground.  I  do  not  like  rivalry  in  any 
shape,  and  my  picture  on  the  same  subject  would  seem  like  it. 
Indeed  it  would  give  me  no  pleasure  to  beat  anyone.  Nor  do 
I  consider  this  business  of  '  beating  '  as  having  any  natural  con- 
nection with  excellence  of  any  kind,  which,  to  be  such,  must  be 
intrinsic  and  independent  of  comparison.  Nature  never  made 
two  minds  alike ;  and  if  the  artist,  whether  poet  or  painter,  has 
any  of  the  mens  divinior,  with  the  power  of  embodying  it,  his 
production  must  have  a  distinctive  excellence  which  not  a  hun- 
dred bad  or  good  ones  by  another  can  either  increase  or  diminish. 
I  know  this  is  not  the  doctrine  of  the  reviewing  age,  but  I  be- 
lieve it  to  be  true,  nevertheless.  Moreover,  I  doubt  if  competi- 
tion was  ever  yet  the  cause  of  a  great  work.  It  is  the  love  of  ex- 
cellence in  the  abstract,  and  for  itself,  that  alone  can  produce 
excellence.  And  I  believe  that  Eaffaelle  loved  Michael  Angelo 
because  he  thought  him  his  superior  for  that  excellence  which 
he  could  not  reach  himself.  There  may  indeed  be  clever  imita- 
tions, got  up  under  more  ignoble  impulses,  a  kind  of  second-hand 
originality,  as  Edmund  Dana  calls  them,  that  might  pass  for  it ; 
nay,  the  world  is  full  of  them,  mocking  each  other,  and  some- 
times mocking  at,  and  how  bitterly. — But  here  I  am  wandering 
off,  like  Tangent  in  the  play,  I  hardly  know  where.  After  this 
excursion  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  my  objections  to  the  other 
subject,  the  '  Leave-taking  of  Washington,'  lest  I  have  no  room 
for  one  of  my  own  choosing,  which  I  should  be  glad  to  have  you 
approve,  namely :  '  The  First  Interview  of  Columbus  with  Ferdi- 
nand and  Isabella '  at  court  after  the  discovery  of  America, 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


237 


accompanied  by  natives,  and  so  forth,  exhibited  in  evidence  of 
his  success.  As  you  have  read  Irving's  book  it  is  unnecessary 
for  me  to  describe  the  scene.  Here  is  magnificence,  emotion, 
and  everything,  the  very  triumph  of  '  matter  '  to  task  a  painter's 
powers.  The  announcement  and  the  proof  of  the  birth  of  a  New 
World.  This  is  not  thought  of  now  for  the  first  time.  I  have 
long  cherished  it  as  one  of  the  dreams  which  the  future,  if  the 
future  were  spared  to  me,  was  one  day  to  embody.  But  to  busi- 
ness ;  the  size  of  a  picture  from  this  would  be  not  less  than  eigh- 
teen feet  by  twelve,  perhaps  twenty  by  fourteen ;  and  the  price 
fifteen  thousand  dollars.  As  to  its  class,  I  know  not  what  subject 
could  be  said  more  emphatically  to  belong  to  America  and  her 
history  than  the  triumph  of  her  discoverer.  We,  who  now  enjoy 
the  blessings  of  his  discovery,  cannot  place  him  too  high  in  that 
history  which  without  him  would  never  have  been.  Besides,  the 
beautiful  work  of  Irving  has  placed  him  as  the  presiding  Genius 
over  the  yet  fresh,  and,  we  will  hope,  immortal  fountain  of  our 
national  literature  ;  the  fame  of  which  Columbus  was  so  long  de- 
frauded is  now  restored  to  him,  and  it  will  endure,  at  least  with 
every  American  heart.  Pray  excuse  my  heroics,  I  did  not  mean 
to  get  into  them.  May  I  venture  to  suggest  one  popular  hint. 
The  subject  is  from  an  American  book,  and  a  book,  too,  that  any 
country  might  be  proud  of.  Now  I  am  going  to  take  a  liberty, 
for  which,  I  feel  assured  you  will  not  require  any  apology.  Could 
not  a  commission  also  be  given  to  my  friend  Yanderlyn  ?  He  is 
truly  a  man  of  genius,  who  has  powers,  if  opportunity  is  given  to 
call  them  forth,  that  would  do  honor  to  his  country.  His 
*  Ariadne  '  has  no  superior  in  modern  art;  his  'Marius,'  also, 
though  not  equal  to  that,  is  still  a  noble  work.  Some  persons 
have  unjustly  censured  him  for  not  having  painted  many  such 
pictures.  The  wonder  to  me  is  how,  circumstanced  as  he  lias 
been  ever  since  I  have  known  him,  he  could  have  attained  to  the 
knowledge  and  power  in  the  art  which  those  works  show  him  to 


238 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


possess.  For,  I  say  it  not  in  friendship,  but  in  simple  justice, 
Vanderlyn  is  a  great  artist.  I  have  known  him  for  many  years, 
in  France  and  Italy  intimately,  and  I  never  knew  the  time  when 
he  had  not  literally  to  struggle  with  poverty ;  the  process  of  pro- 
curing his  daily  bread  stifling  powers  that,  if  allowed  freely  to 
act,  would  have  filled  Europe  with  his  name.  I  fear  that,  like  the 
subject  of  my  last  letter,  he  finds  no  inspiration  in  necessity. 
Let  his  country  now  call  his  genius  forth,  I  know  he  will  do  her 
honor.  With  this  opinion  of  him  I  need  hardly  say  that  my 
own  commission  would  be  doubly  welcome,  should  I  hear  at  the 
same  time  that  an  equal  commission  was  also  given  to  Yanderlyn. 
And  if  Uncle  Sam's  generous  mood  would  incline  him,  too,  to 
commission  Morse  and  Sully,  I  should  then  be  thereby  delighted. 
Morse  I  consider  as  a  child  of  my  own,  and  you  know  what  I 
think  of  him.  The  quickening  atmosphere  which  he  is  now 
breathing  in  Europe,  will  open  some  original  and  powerful  seeds 
which  I  long  ago  saw  in  him.  I  am  much  mistaken  if  he  has  not 
that  in  him  which  will  one  day  surprise.  And  Sully  has  histori- 
cal powers,  already  proved  in  his  '  Crossing  the  Delaware,'  of  no 
common  order. 

"I  am  much  gratified  to  learn  the  interest  which  Colonel 
Drayton  does  me  the  honor  to  take  in  my  behalf.  I  knew  him 
some  years  since  in  London,  and  I  have  met  few  persons  with 
whom  I  have  been  so  much  pleased  on  so  short  an  acquaintance. 
Pray  present  him  my  respects  and  thanks.  Should  the  com- 
mission be  given  I  hope  they  will  not  limit  me  as  to  time,  as  I 
have  several  engagements  that  must  previously  be  fulfilled.  My 
interest  would,  of  course,  preclude  any  unnecessary  delay. 

"  Faithfully  yours, 

"  W.  Allston." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


239 


From  Ver planch  to  Allston. 

"  House  of  Representatives,  May  29,  1830. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  We  (that  is  our  Committee)  had  deter- 
mined to  try  the  taste  and  liberality  of  Congress  by  recommend- 
ing an  appropriation  for  a  picture  from  you  on  your  terms  and 
choice,  restricting  you  only  to  American  History,  in  which  Col- 
umbus would,  of  course,  be  included ;  but,  unfortunately,  for  the 
present  our  bill  for  the  improvement  of  the  public  buildings  has 
been  crowded  out  by  the  press  of  other  business,  and  must  lie 
over  till  next  winter. 

"  Though  our  proposed  alterations  in  the  buildings  are  im- 
portant both  to  comfort  and  taste,  there  was  nothing  pressing  in 
the  bill  now  passing,  and  I  only  regret  the  delay  on  your  account. 
Next  winter  we  shall  have  the  opportunity  of  taking  up  the  bill 
early,  and  I  hope  with  better  success.  But  the  extent  to  which 
Congress  will  go  in  these  matters  depends  much  on  accidental 
circumstances. 

» 

June  1,  1830,  Allston  married  Martha  E.  Dana,  daughter  of 
the  late  Francis  Dana,  Chief  Justice  of  Massachusetts,  and 
cousin  on  the  maternal  side  to  his  first  wife.  He  thus  an- 
nounces the  event  to  his  friend  Cogdell : 

"  Cambridgepoiit,  June  8,  1830. 
"  Dear  Cogdell  :  My  patriarchal  courtship  is  at  length 
ended,  and  I  am  now  a  happy  benedict,  and  I  know  not  what  I 
could  do  better  than  to  bestow  on  you  some  of  the  spirits  which 
the  occasion  inspires.  I  was  married  on  Tuesday  last  at  Cam- 
bridge, which  we  left  immediately  after  the  ceremony  for  our 
present  habitation  and  home.  It  is  a  snug,  commodious  little 
mansion,  prettily  situated  in  a  retired  part  of  this  village,  and 


240 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


commanding  a  pleasant  view  of  the  adjacent  country,  taking  in  a 
part  of  the  river  and  a  picturesque  little  pine  wood,  which  used 
to  be  the  favorite  haunt  of  my  younger  days,  to  which  I  used  to 
saunter  after  college  hours,  and  dream  sometimes  of  poetry,  and 
sometimes  of  my  art.  These  youthful  associations  have  an  inde- 
finite charm  peculiarly  pleasant  to  me  at  this  time  ;  they  seem  to 
bring  together  the  earlier  and  later  portions  of  my  life,  mingling 
them  as  it  were  into  one,  and  imparting  to  the  present  some  of 
that  eloquent  quiet  of  the  past  which  my  nature  has  always  most 
loved.  You  may  well  suppose  that  such  a  home,  with  the  woman 
of  my  choice,  must  have  no  ordinary  value  in  my  eyes,  after  the 
restless,  wandering  Arab  life  which  I  have  led  for  the  last  ten 
years. 

"  Though  circumstances  have  thrown  me  upon  the  world  for 
so  large  a  portion  of  my  life,  and  obliged  me  to  mix  so  long  in 
its  gay  and  busy  scenes,  it  has  seldom,  if  ever,  afforded  me  any 
real  enjoyment.  Not  that  my  disposition  is  solitary;  on  the 
contrary,  it  is  inherently  social ;  for  the  truest  enjoyment  I  have 
ever  known  has  been  in  that  which  has  been  reflected  back  to  me 
from  those  I  love — only  to  be  found  in  the  domestic  circle,  and 
among  a  few  personal  friends.  Nothing  like  this  can  the  world 
give — nothing  but  a  poor  substitute  of  idle  ceremony  and  heart- 
less show.  What  are  called  its  pleasures  are  none  to  me,  nor 
can  they  be  deemed  such  even  by  a  man  of  the  world  till  they 
stimulate  the  mind  into  an  artificial  state ;  that  passing  off,  they 
are  pleasures  no  longer,  but  vanish  like  inebriating  illusions, 
while  their  places  are  filled  with  weariness  or  disgust.  But  the 
sober  pleasures  of  home,  taking  their  source  in  virtues  consonant 
to  our  moral  nature,  have  no  other  condition  for  their  fruition 
and  permanence  but  equal  virtue  in  the  receiver  as  in  the  giver. 
If  they  fail  then  of  being  realized,  it  is  because  we  are  unworthy 
of  them. 

"  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  my  wife  to  you  ;    I  will  only 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


241 


say,  that  in  the  excellence  of  her  disposition,  cultivated  intellect, 
sound  religious  principles,  and  practical  piety,  I  have  a  prospect 
of  as  much  happiness  as  anyone  may  look  for  in  this  world. 

"  I  sent  you,  as  I  mentioned  in  the  letter  to  my  mother, 
through  some  of  your  correspondents,  several  messages  respect- 
ing your  '  Modestia,'  saying  how  much  pleased  I  was  with  it.  I 
may  now  more  particularly  say  that  I  think  it  superior  in  execu- 
tion to  your  preceding  works,  as  it  ought  to  be.  You  have  well 
expressed  the  character,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  embodied  the 
sentiment.  There  is  nothing  assumed  or  theatrical  in  it,  but  it 
is  natural  and  delicate,  and  does  great  credit  to  your  invention. 
There  is  a  remark,  however,  that  I  will  make  which  may  be  of 
use  to  you  in  future  subjects  of  this  class,  viz.,  the  bridge  of 
the  nose  is  too  thin,  and  the  chin  too  large,  for  beauty,  according 
to  the  antique — at  least,  sccondo  il  mio  gusto.  The  folds  of  the 
drapery  are  also  too  small — what  the  artists  call  1  cut  up.'  But 
when  I  say  that  upon  the  whole  I  prefer  the  old  general,  you 
must  not  think  I  am  disparaging  this  last  work ;  I  mention  it 
merely  as  exemplifying  what  I  observed  in  a  former  letter — that 
elegance  of  execution  is  no  match  for  force  of  character.  The 
*  Modestia '  is  certainly  the  superior  in  execution,  but  it  is  the 
personification  of  an  abstraction,  and  therefore  but  indirectly, 
and  by  an  effort  of  our  mind,  appealing  to  our  sympathies ; 
whereas  the  other,  as  the  image  of  an  actual,  living  being  comes 
home  to  us  at  once,  and  produces  its  effect  (as  in  nature)  before 

we  know  why  

"  Believe  me  ever  your  sincere  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 

Allston  now  settled  down  to  his  life  as  an  artist  and  a  mar- 
ried man  in  the  village  of  Cambridgeport.    A  few  years  before 

his  death  he  moved  from  the  small  inconvenient  house  he  had 
16 


242 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


occupied  since  his  marriage,  into  a  new  and  larger  one  within 
the  same  enclosure  with  his  painting-room.  This  was  his  only 
change  of  place  from  the  time  of  his  second  marriage  till  his 
death. 

The  peculiarities  of  his  uneventful  life  in  Cambridgeport 
might  be  termed  picturesque ;  and,  so  far  as  observed  by  his 
neighbors,  they  rendered  him  an  object  of  interest  and  respect. 
His  dignity  and  refinement  of  manner  were  so  tempered  with 
gentleness  that  the  common  people  accosted  him  with  freedom, 
though  always  deferentially.  He  retained  many  of  the  habits 
formed  during  his  residence  abroad.  It  was  his  custom  to  turn 
night  into  day,  a  custom  noticeable  as  far  back  as  his  boarding- 
school  life  in  Newport.  Mr.  Eogers,  the  school-master,  on  his 
nightly  round  to  see  that  the  lights  were  out  and  the  boys  in 
bed,  would  always  find  young  Allston  sitting  up  deeply  inter- 
ested in  some  book.  This  tendency  to  late  hours  followed  him 
through  life.  He  seldom  went  to  bed  before  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  He  would  usually  rise  at  about  ten,  make  an  elaborate 
toilet,  and  then  prepare  his  breakfast,  which  consisted  of  the 
strongest  coffee  and  some  slight  relish,  like  a  bit  of  salt  fish  or 
ham,  and  an  egg  with  bread  and  butter.  He  never  altogether 
gave  up  his  bachelor  habits,  and  would  allow  no  one  to  prepare 
his  breakfast  or  his  bed  but  himself. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  he  would  light  his  cigar  and  take 
some  book  on  art,  which  he  would  read  for  a  while  in  preparation 
for  his  painting.  About  one  o'clock,  he  would  enter  his  studio, 
put  down  his  pitcher  of  drinking-water  which  he  always  brought 
with  him  through  the  streets  from  his  house.  Making  out  his 
palette  occupied  him  not  less  than  half  an  hour,  as  he  had 
always  a  system  of  tints  to  mix  and  spread  out  on  a  scrupulously 
clean,  large  mahogany  palette.  Then  he  would  take  out  his  pic- 
ture, place  it  on  the  easel,  light  his  cigar,  and  sit  down  in  front 
of  it,  seemingly  wrapped  in  pleasing  anticipation  of  what  he  ex- 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


243 


pectecl  to  do.  It  is  obvious  that,  with  this  deliberate  preparation, 
his  hours  for  work  in  winter  were  few.  After  painting  he  would 
carefully  clean  his  palette  and  return  to  the  contemplation  of  his 
picture,  which  would  continue  generally  until  quite  dark.  Then 
with  his  brushes  and  pitcher  in  his  hands,  he  would  start  for 
his  house ;  and  so  abstracted  was  he  frequently,  that  upon 
reaching  it,  he  would  return  to  see  whether  he  had  locked  his 
studio  door. 

After  readjusting  his  toilet,  he  would  enter  the  dining-room, 
which  was  also  his  sitting-room.  There  he  would  usually  find 
some  friend  or  friends  whose  intimacy  rendered  invitations 
superfluous,  with  whom  he  would  spend  an  hour  or  more  in 
cheerful  conversation,  and  the  enjoyment  of  a  well-provided  and 
tempting  table,  on  which  there  was  always  sherry  wine. 

He  was  quite  an  epicure,  and  at  times  greatly  enjoyed  describ- 
ing dinners  in  Paris,  the  memory  of  which  seemed  to  delight 
him.  The  cloth  removed,  the  wine  would  be  replaced  on  the 
table,  the  cigars  lighted,  and  reinforced  occasionally  by  a  few 
friends  dropping  in,  the  night's  conversation  would  continue. 
About  nine  o'clock  tea,  toast,  cake,  and  preserves  would  be 
served.  The  following  characteristic  letter  to  John  Knapp,  Esq., 
indicates  the  informal,  and  yet  epicurean,  nature  of  these  oc- 
casions : 

11  Cambridgeport,  February  23,  1831. 

"  Dear  Knapp  :  As  we  suppose  you  have  by  this  time  finished 
preparing  for  the  press,  the  journal  of  your  voyage  to  the  Island 
of  Formosa  or  Natchitoches  (the  public  are  divided  as  to  which, 
though  they  have  no  doubt  you  have  been  to  one  or  the  other 
place),  Mrs.  A.  and  myself  would  be  happy  to  have  your  opin- 
ion on  a  haunch  of  Yankee  venison  at  five  o'clock  on  Friday. 

"N.  B. — Mr.  Hastings  and  Mr.  E.  T.  Dana,  who  will  be  pres- 
ent, are  also  very  curious  (at  least  I  venture  to  think  so)  to  hear 
your  opinion ;  especially  as  to  how  it  compares  with  the  foreign 


2U 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


venison  which  you  have  doubtless  met  with  in  your  travels.  A 
bed  is  provided  for  you  in  which  you  may  rest  after  the  labors 
incident  to  so  important  a  decision. 

"  Ever  faithfully  yours, 

"W.  Allston." 

There  are  but  few  surviving  who  can  recall  these  entertain- 
ments, but  all  who  can,  recur  to  them  as  unique.  Art,  science, 
and  literature — all  current  interests  of  the  day,  political,  theolog- 
ical, social ;  history  and  philosophy  ;  adventure,  romance,  works 
of  fiction,  the  dramatic  and  comic ;  ghost  stories,  legends,  and 
myths,  gave  occasion  and  theme  for  the  most  interesting  conver- 
sations. 

As  a  young  man  Allston  acquired  a  great  love  for  smoking, 
which  ministered  so  pleasingly  to  his  dreamy  moods  that  he  was 
wont  to  say  that,  next  to  his  religion,  his  cigar  had  been  his 
greatest  consolation.  The  mantel-shelf  in  his  painting-room  was 
fringed  with  cigar-stumps.  He  would  frequently  stop  his  work, 
light  one  of  these  stumps,  and  smoke  while  contemplating  his 
picture,  then  carefully  lay  the  stump  in  its  place  and  resume  his 
work. 

His  courteous  and  kindly  nature  emboldened  his  neighbors 
to  consult  him  freely  on  all  questions  of  taste.  On  one  occasion, 
just  before  dinner,  the  bell  rang  and  the  servant  opened  the  door 
to  two  old  women,  who  had  called,  as  they  said,  to  ask  Mr.  All- 
ston's  opinion  about  some  samples  of  calico  ;  his  wife  stepped  to 
the  door,  and  told  them  that  they  must  call  at  some  other  time, 
if  they  would  see  Mr.  Allston,  for  he  had  no  taste  then  for  any- 
thing but  his  dinner.  Mr.  Allston  was  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
and  hearing  the  conversation,  went  down,  patiently  examined  the 
samples,  and  gave  his  opinion. 

G.  L.  Brown,  the  landscape  painter  of  Boston,  made  a  very 
fine  copy  of  a  Claude  in  the  Louvre,  which  was  purchased  by  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


245 


Boston  Athenaeum.  Allston  pronounced  it  the  best  copy  of 
Claude  he  had  ever  seen.  Some  gentlemen,  hearing  of  this  high 
commendation,  said  to  Brown,  "  If  you  can  get  Allston  to  put 
that  in  writing,  you  can  raise  all  the  money  you  need."  He  ob- 
tained the  written  statement,  and  as  a  result,  was  sent  to  Europe 
to  make  other  copies.  This  good  fortune  gave  Brown  great  en- 
couragement. It  enabled  him  to  spend  several  years  abroad,  and 
did  much  to  establish  his  reputation.  The  unselfish  side  of  AU- 
ston's  nature  was  continually  manifesting  itself.  One  evening  he 
heard  an  alarm  of  fire ;  going  to  the  street,  he  saw  the  flames  in 
the  direction  of  the  Poor  House.  Remembering  that  an  old 
woman,  who  was  formerly  a  beneficiary  of  Mrs.  Allston,  was  then 
an  inmate  of  the  institution,  he  at  once  started  off  to  the  rescue. 
Soon  after  his  tall  and  distinguished  figure  was  seen  with  the 
old  pauper  woman  leaning  on  his  arm,  walking  through  the 
streets  of  Cambridgeport.  Arrived  at  the  gate,  he  led  his 
charge  into  the  house,  and  with  that  courtesy  of  manner  which 
knew  no  distinction  of  caste,  or  time,  or  place,  introduced  her  to 
Mrs.  Allston,  saying  he  had  brought  her  a  guest.  The  scope  of 
his  kindness  was  all-embracing.  His  whole  nature  was  infused 
with  love,  and  its  natural  expression  was  loving  interest  for  all. 
He  used  to  say  that  there  was  no  face  so  deficient  in  beauty  that 
he  could  not  see  in  it  something  beautiful,  and  so  also  he  could 
discover  something  divine,  a  kindred  divinity  in  every  human 
soul. 

Soon  after  Allston's  marriage  to  Miss  Dana,  he  was  told  that 
Miss  Merriam,  of  Newport,  daughter  of  an  Episcopal  clergy- 
man, censured  him  for  leaving  the  Episcopal  Church,  of  which 
he  was  a  member,  and  going  with  his  wife  to  the  Congrega- 
tional Church,  to  which  she  belonged.  This  report  seemed  to 
impress  him  deeply.  He  said,  "  I  should  like  to  see  Miss  Mer- 
riam. I  have  something  to  say  to  her,  which  may  enlarge  her 
views  of  religion ;  I  am  neither  an  Episcopalian  nor  a  Congrega- 


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WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


tionalist,  I  endeavor  to  be  a  Christian."  His  philosophical  and 
analytical  mind  went  to  the  essence  and  root,  the  underlying 
principle  of  Christianity.  He  was  a  Catholic  in  the  largest  sense 
of  that  large  word ;  from  the  informal  ritualism  of  the  Quaker 
to  that  of  the  Romanist,  with  all  its  impressive  ceremonial,  in 
whatsoever  church  or  society  the  spirit  of  Christ  was  acknowl- 
edged as  the  supreme  guidance — by  each  and  all  he  could  be 
claimed  as  a  member.  He  might  accept  creeds,  or  formulas,  or 
theologies  ;  he  might  localize  his  worship  so  that  men  would  call 
him  Churchman  or  Dissenter ;  but  his  religion,  so  full  of  love 
and  reverence,  could  be  designated  by  no  narrower  term  than 
universal,  all-embracing,  Catholic.  This  Catholicity  could  be 
predicated  of  him  not  only  in  religion,  but  also  in  art.  Speaking 
of  his  preferences  in  regard  to  schools  and  methods,  he  was  wont 
to  say,  as  before  quoted,  "  I  am  a  wide  liker."  This  was  certified 
by  his  kindly  bearing.  Young  artists  went  to  him  confident  of  a 
gentle  and  encouraging  reception.  His  criticism  was  always 
mingled  with  cheering  words  to  strengthen  and  guide  the  young 
aspirant  aright  in  the  difficult  ascent  to  excellence.  Thus,  his 
manner  invited  the  inquirer  for  truth  in  art  and  artistic  methods, 
and  from  his  presence  none  went  empty  away. 


Jeremiah  Dictating  bis  Prophecy  of  the  Destruction  of 
Jerusalem  to  Barucb  the  Scribe. 

From  the  original  in  the  Art  Gallery  of  Yale  College. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 


THE  u  JEREMIAH." — ITS  EXHIBITION   IN  BOSTON. — LETTERS  OF  1830 
TO  1832,  TO  McMURTRIE,  VERPLANCK,  AND  COGDELL. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1830  Allston  worked  on  his 
picture  "Jeremiah,"  of  which  he  writes  to  McMurtrie  :  "I  have 
now  considerably  advanced,  a  picture,  figure  larger  than  life  of 
•  Jeremiah,'  which  I  shall  describe  to  you  in  my  next,  it  will  be 
finished  in  a  month.  I  should  not  have  undertaken  it,  but  that  I 
was  obliged  to  leave  Boston  just  as  I  was  going  to  proceed  with 
1  Belshazzar,'  on  account  of  an  epidemic  that  prevailed  near  my 
painting-room  and  made  it  dangerous  to  remain  there.  I  have 
therefore  spent  the  latter  pari  of  the  summer  in  Cambridge, 
where  I  began  this  picture.  The  picture  of  *  Jeremiah,'  I  think 
for  its  materials  one  of  the  grandest  compositions  I  have  made." 

In  December  of  the  same  year  McMurtrie  writes :  "  I  have 
lately  seen  an  account  of  your  last  picture  of  1  Jeremiah.'  Do  you 
intend  we  shall  see  it  in  Philadelphia  ?  If  you  do,  I  entreat  you 
will  allow  me  to  use  my  best  endeavors  to  promote  your  views  in 
this  quarter." 

This  picture  was  sold  to  a  Mr.  Ball,  and  first  shown  gratuit- 
ously to  visitors,  in  1831,  at  Miss  Catherine  Scollay's  residence  in 
Boston.  Allston's  friends  advised  him  to  prevent  this,  and  de- 
sired him  to  consent  to  their  making  application  to  Mr.  Ball  to 
allow  its  being  exhibited  for  money.  This  he  declined,  through 
extreme  delicacy,  thinking  it  might  lead  Mr.  Ball  to  suppose  he 
was  not  satisfied  with  the  sum  paid,  when  he  himself  had  fixed 
the  price  and  named  the  subject.  Dana  says :  "  Through  whose 
instrumentality  the  exhibition  was  brought  about  I  do  not  know," 


248 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


and  he  continues,  "  What  Mrs.  Jameson  says  of  want  of  height 
in  the  canvas  of  '  Jeremiah '  may  in  some  degree  be  true,  but  I 
suspect  that  the  impression  made  upon  her  was  from  the  lowness 
of  the  room  in  which  she  saw  it,  rather  than  from  want  of  height 
on  the  canvas. 

"  I  should  hardly  with  her  call  Jeremiah's  beard  flowing,  for 
though  somewhat  long,  it  was  also  rather  crisp,  I  think.  '  Wide 
eyes  glaring  on  the  future '  hardly  hints  their  marvellous  expres- 
sion. '  The  head  of  the  scribe  looking  up  and  struck  with  a 
kind  of  horror,  finer  still ' — is  in  my  mind  an  entire  mistake  of  the 
expression.  She  speaks  of  the  relief  of  the  jaw ;  how  people's 
talk  of  this  mere  mechanical  excellence  used  to  vex  Allston !  " 

The  following  notice  of  "  Jeremiah,"  published  in  the  Boston 
Daily  Advertiser,  September,  1830,  gives  a  good  description  of  the 
picture. 

"  I  have  been  to  see  Mr.  Allston's  picture  of  '  Jeremiah.' 
The  room  was  perfectly  still,  for  I  was  the  only  visitor.  The 
Prophet  seemed  lost  in  mysterious  communion  with  the  divine 
Being.  There  was  an  elevating  and  solemn  impression  made  up- 
on the  mind  by  this  visible  yet  silent  operation  of  divinity  which 
no  language  of  poetry  ever  gave  me  a  sense  of.  Never  did  I  feel 
so  distinctly  the  nigh  approach  of  a  heavenly  power,  or  contem- 
plate the  inward  emotions  of  the  soul  so  entirely  abstracted  from 
all  that  is  bodily.  Jeremiah  is  a  gigantic  figure  ;  yet  you  do  not 
think  of  him  as  such,  and  his  size  only  makes  upon  you  an  im- 
pression of  power  in  perfect  agreement  with  his  supernatural 
mission,  and  the  sublime  energy  and  resolution  shown  in  the 
character  of  his  attitude  and  countenance  ;  the  eyes  are  conceived 
in  high  poetry.  He  is  looking  beyond  all  earthly  things,  into 
the  infinite  distance,  and  the  invisible  is  made  visible  to  him. 
Yet  there  is  an  abstracted  inwardness  of  thought  in  them,  intent 
upon  the  workings  of  the  prophetic  spirit  with  which  he  is  filled. 
There  is  a  majestic  repose  in  the  whole  figure,  and  the  right 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


249 


hand  raised,  while  the  elbow  is  resting  on  a  projection  of  the 
prison  wall,  seems  about  to  move  at  the  first  word  of  prophecy. 
His  head  is  in  a  fine  style  of  sublimity,  the  temples  and  forehead 
are  marked  with  clear,  eloquent  veins.  Over  all  this  grandeur  is 
thrown  a  calm  awe  which  takes  from  it  everything  earthly. 

"  Baruch  is  in  natural  contrast,  seated  lower  and  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  prophet,  full  of  youthful  beauty,  and  the  in- 
clination of  the  body  so  graceful  and  easy !  With  the  innocent 
expression  of  his  countenance  is  mingled  a  reverence,  at  the  same 
time  you  perceive  that  he  is  expecting  the  words  of  the  prophet. 
These  are  the  only  figures  in  the  picture,  except  the  sentinel  in 
the  distance  ;  they  are  in  the  court  of  the  prison — the  long  gal- 
leries, flights  of  steps,  and  arches  of  which  are  in  fine  perspect- 
ive. The  walls  along  the  passages  are  colored  with  great  truth, 
and  there  cannot  be  anything  better  than  the  daylight  shining 
upon  them.  The  anatomy  of  the  figures  seems  perfect.  The 
raised  arm  and  fore-shortened  foot  of  the  prophet,  the  out-turned 
foot  and  right  hand  of  the  scribe,  all  difficult  to  draw,  are  to  my 
eye  without  a  fault.  The  prophet's  beard  and  Baruch's  hair 
and  neck  could  hardly  be  surpassed  for  beauty  and  truth.  The 
drapery  is  finely  folded,  perfectly  easy  and  negligent,  without 
anything  slovenly.  We  have  had  nothing  to  compare  with  this 
picture  for  color.  It  is  all  harmony,  and  so  rich  and  deep  that 
the  eye  bathes  in  it.  The  simplicity  and  unity  of  the  picture 
are  very  obvious,  no  theatrical  effect  is  aimed  at ;  I  wish  I  felt  at 
liberty  to  tell  Mr.  Allston  how  grateful  I  am  to  him  for  having 
shown  me  one  of  the  prophets  of  old,  and  for  having  sent  me 
away  a  more  thoughtful  and  religious  man." 

The  following  letter  is  from  Allston  to  McMurtrie  : 

"  Cambridgeport,  May  27,  1831. 

"My  Dear  Sir:  I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  the  19th 
inst.,  and  agreeably  to  your  request  I  sit  down  to  reply  without 


250 


WASHINGTON-  ALL8T0N 


delay.  I  regret,  however,  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  give  you 
available  information  on  the  subject  of  your  inquiries.  I  have 
but  a  few  weeks  since  been  established  in  my  new  painting-room, 
which  I  have  built  in  this  place.  '  Belshazzar '  has  been  rolled 
up  and  reposing  in  a  packing-case  for  more  than  three  years,  in 
consequence  of  my  former  large  room  in  Boston  passing  into 
the  hands  of  a  new  owner,  who  has  converted  it  into  a  livery-sta- 
ble ;  since  which  I  have  been  compelled  to  work  in  a  small  cham- 
ber where  I  have  been  employed  altogether  on  small  pictures. 
'  Belshazzar '  will  still  remain  for  some  time  to  come  in  its  case — 
some  embarrassing  debts  and  my  immediate  necessities  being 
the  cause.  I  must  be  free  in  mind  before  I  venture  to  finish  it. 
I  trust,  however,  that  the  time  will  not  be  very  long.  Your  room 
which  you  mention  must  be  a  noble  one.  I  wish  there  was  such 
a  one  in  each  of  our  large  cities.  It  is  a  great  desideratum  with 
me,  as  I  mean  hereafter — that  is  when  I  once  more  become  free, 
and  should  Providence  grant  me  life — to  confine  myself  chiefly  to 
large  works. 

"  I  suppose  that  you  know  that  I  have  become  a  benedict.  I 
have  been  married  about  a  year,  and  this  village  is  now  my 
home.  It  is  about  two  miles  from  Boston,  where  I  can  be  at  any 
time,  by  means  of  an  hourly  stage,  in  twenty  minutes.  I  am  in 
better  health,  and  certainly  in  better  spirits,  than  I  have  been  in 
ten  years.  Believe  me,  my  dear  sir,  with  undiminished  regard, 
sincerely  yours, 

"Washington  Allston." 

Allston's  interest  in  younger  artists  is  attested  anew  in  the 
following  entertaining  letter  to  Cogdell : 

"  Cambridgeport,  July  25,  1831. 
"Deak  Cogdell:  I  mentioned  in  my  last  letter  to  my 
mother,  of  the  4th  inst.,  that  a  subject  for  your  chisel  had  then 
just  occurred  to  me,  which  I  did  not  name  to  her,  thinking  you 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


251 


would  be  more  gratified  to  have  it  directly  from  myself.  The 
subject  is  Hagar  and  Ishmael,  when  the  latter  is  about  (appar- 
ently) to  expire  from  thirst  in  the  desert.  The  moment  I  have 
supposed  is  just  before  the  appearance  of  the  angel,  when  she  is 
taking  the  last  look  of  her  son,  previous  to  the  passage  where 
she  says,  '  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the  child.'  Gen.  xxi.  16. 
I  think  a  very  beautiful  as  well  as  touching  group  may  be 
made  of  this.  The  head  of  the  child  resting  on  the  lap  of  the 
mother,  who  is  kneeling  and  slightly  bending  over  him,  with  the 
head  only,  not  the  body ;  as  the  more  erect  position  of  the  body, 
contrasting  with  the  inclination  of  the  head,  would  correspond 
with  the  mixed  emotion,  or  rather  conflicting  thoughts,  within — ■ 
the  agony  in  the  thought  of  seeing  him  die,  and  the  thought  of 
lessening  it  by  the  cruel  alternative  of  leaving  him. 

"  I  will  mention  another  subject  which  also  occurs  to  me  as 
not  unsuitable  to  sculpture,  1  Hermia  and  Helena,'  from  Shake- 
speare's '  Mid-Summer  Night's  Dream,'  in  whom  the  singleness 
and  unity  of  friendship  is  beautifully  illustrated.  They  are  de- 
scribed as  animated  by  one  soul  in  their  affections,  employ- 
ments, and  amusements ;  working  together  on  one  sampler,  like 
two  twin-cherries  growing  on  one  stalk,  etc.  Perhaps  you  will 
find  some  passage  in  the  play  that  would  suggest  the  action.  I 
certainly  should  not  recommend  the  sampler,  which  must  be,  to 
say  the  least,  but  an  awkward  thing  to  represent  in  sculpture.  I 
painted  this  subject  when  in  England,  and  not  thinking  it  essen- 
tial to  adhere  to  the  letter,  instead  of  the  sampler  I  made  them 
reading  together  from  the  same  book.  I  endeavored  to  give  the 
spirit,  which  is  all  I  would  recommend  to  you  in  naming  the 
subject.  With  the  book,  I  think  they  might  make  a  beautiful 
group  in  sculpture. 

"  In  a  letter  to  my  mother,  I  expressed  my  regret  in  being 
unable  to  think  of  any  subject  for  you,  and  referred  you  to  the 


252 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


catalogues  of  the  Boyal  Academy  and  other  London  exhibi- 
tions, as  most  likely  to  famish  you  with  one.  My  mother  was 
at  the  time  at  Waccamaw,  but  this  I  did  not  then  know. 

"  "Will  you  tell  my  mother  that  my  nephew,  George  Flagg, 
arrived  here  a  few  days  since.  He  is  a  fine,  manly  little  fellow. 
It  will  gratify  his  grandmother  to  know  that  Mrs.  A.  and  myself 
are  quite  delighted  with  him.  He  carries  with  him  in  his  deli- 
cate and  modest  manners  the  appearance  of  having  been  well 
brought  up,  and  I  find  him  more  intelligent  and  mature  in  mind 
than  I  should  have  expected  in  one  of  his  age.  So  far  as  I  can 
now  judge,  he  has  every  quality  to  make  a  fine  artist. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  learnt  through  the  newspapers,  that  we 
have  had  an  exhibition  here  of  a  group  in  marble,  called  the 
'  Chanting  Cherubs,'  by  Mr.  Greenough,  of  Boston,  who  is  now 
in  Florence.  It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  groups  in  modern 
art,  judging  of  it  not  as  the  work  of  a  young  man,  but  as  one  of 
matured  powers.  I  think  it  places  the  author  of  it,  if  not  among 
the  first,  certainly  above  the  second-rate  sculptors  of  the  day. 
But  when  I  consider  his  youth,  or  rather  his  limited  experience, 
I  have  no  scruples  in  predicting  his  speedy  elevation  to  a  pedes- 
tal among  the  very  first.  In  addition  to  a  brilliant,  versatile 
genius,  Greenough  possesses  the  advantage  of  a  thorough  liberal 
education.  He  was  educated  at  our  college,  and  was  not  idle 
when  there,  making  himself  ere  he  left  it  a  good  classical 
scholar.  In  general  acquirements  also  I  believe  there  are  few 
young  men  in  our  country  who  surpass  him. 

"  George  speaks  highly  of  your  bust  of  Dr.  Elliott ;  he  says 
it  is  considered  the  happiest  of  your  works.  I  hope  you  will  be 
tempted  by  one  of  the  subjects  I  have  proposed,  to  show  what 
you  can  do  in  a  work  of  imagination.  If  you  do  not  already 
possess  them,  I  should  recommend  your  sending  to  England  for 
the  compositions  of  Flaxman,  the  sculptor,  from  Dante  and  the 
Greek  poets.    They  are  all  in  outline  and  are  worthy  of  the 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


253 


best  age  of  art.  I  have  three  volumes  of  them.  They  ought  to 
be  in  the  library  of  every  artist,  whether  sculptor  or  painter. 
The  whole  of  Flaxman's  works,  I  think,  may  be  had  for  about 
twenty  pounds  sterling.  I  am  now  in  my  new  painting-room, 
which  I  believe  has  not  its  superior  in  Europe.  At  present  I 
am  painting  a  picture  for  a  gentleman  of  Carolina. 
"  Believe  me  ever  faithfully  your  friend, 

"Washington  Allston." 

The  following  note  from  Verplanck  to  Allston  testifies  to  the 
latter's  success  in  his  friendly  efforts  in  behalf  of  Yanderlyn. 

44  Washington,  February  21,  1832. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  Knowing  the  pleasure  it  must  give  you  to 
be  informed  you  have  rendered  an  important  service  to  a  friend, 
I  enclose  you  a  paper  containing  our  little  debate  about  employ- 
ing Vanderlyn,  and  I  can  assure  you  that  the  testimony  to  his 
merit  which  you  enabled  me  to  give  was  what  decided  the  ques- 
tion. The  picture  would  otherwise  have  been  left  to  be  a  job 
for  somebody  or  other,  according  to  accident  or  interest.  Van- 
derlyn understands  that,  limited  only  to  Stuart's  head,  he  has 
carte  blanche  to  give  us  a  magnificent  picture.  He  will  visit 
Boston  to  copy  the  engraved  head.  In  the  meantime  the  debate 
alone  is  a  happy  thing  for  him  which,  I  trust,  he  will  take  advan- 
tage of. 

"  We  have  also  given  your  friend  Greenough  an  order  for  a 
pedestrian  marble  statue  of  Washington,  limiting  him  only  to 
the  Houdon  face  and  leaving  him  free  as  to  everything  else. 
We  have  an  excellent  committee  on  this  subject,  and  I  hope  to 
see  our  Rotunda  adorned  by  your  pencil,  and  others  worthy  to 
associate  with  you  under  these  auspices. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  G.  C.  Verplanck." 


254 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


The  following  long  letter,  full  of  excellent  criticism  and  ad- 
vice to  his  young  friend,  is  particularly  interesting  in  the  part 
that  relates  to  "  Belshazzar,"  giving  as  it  does  Allston's  own 
feelings  about  the  picture. 

Allston  to  Cogdell. 

"Cambtudgeport,  February  27,  1832. 

"Deak  Cogdell:  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  that  I  can 
bestow  sincere  praise  on  your  group  of  Hagar  and  Ishmael.  It 
is  decidedly  your  best  work,  and  much  exceeds  what  I  had 
expected ;  it  really  does  you  great  honor.  And  though  it  has 
many  faults,  they  are  by  no  means  of  a  kind  to  outweigh  its 
merits.  The  attitudes  of  both  mother  and  child  are  well  con- 
ceived, and  they  group  well  together.  Perhaps,  however,  the 
group  might  have  been  improved  had  the  boy's  body  been  a 
little  farther  off,  and  his  head  resting  where  it  is.  I  think  it 
would  have  presented  a  better  profile  view.  But  its  chief  merit 
lies  in  the  general  conception  and  the  expression;  which  are 
certainly  the  principal  points  in  a  work  of  art.  It  has  indeed 
great  power  of  expression.  The  helpless  extremity  of  the  son 
is  very  touching,  and  his  physical  suffering  is  affectingly  con- 
trasted with  that  of  his  mother.  She  seems  to  have  just  said, 
'  Let  me  not  see  him  die,'  and  to  be  taking  a  last  look ;  the 
deep,  silent  maternal  agony  of  that  look  is  of  no  common  order. 
The  calmness  of  her  action,  too,  is  finely  conceived;  it  is  the 
effort  of  one  who  strives  not  to  look  into  the  fearful  future  ;  who 
stands  on  the  brink  of  an  abyss  into  which  she  must  fall,  but 
will  not  look.    This  is  indeed  great. 

"  Now  (as  I  suppose  you  will  wish  me  to  do)  I  will  point  out 
the  faults,  but  you  must  not  be  frightened  at  the  list,  since  they 
are  only  the  faults  of  inexperience.  The  principal  defect  is  in 
the  disposition  of  the  drapery,  the  lines  of  which  are  too  often 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


255 


repeated,  and  too  abrupt ;  that  is,  the  folds  are  too  small  and 
cut  up,  instead  of  being  large,  varied,  and  flowing.  The  hori- 
zontal lines  also  across  the  mother's  body  have  an  ill  effect,  and 
disturb  the  action  of  the  limbs,  which  should  always  in  sculpt- 
ure be  indicated,  however  faintly,  by  some  slight  correspond- 
ence in  the  folds  that  drape  them.  The  next  is  the  costume. 
The  puffs  on  the  arms  and  the  folds  on  the  breast  are 
modern.  The  sleeves  should  have  been  plain — so  the  drapery 
on  the  chest.  The  right  shoulder  of  the  boy  is  out  of  its 
place ;  it  could  not  be  so  far  projected  without  dislocation, 
or  breaking  the  clavicle.  The  protrusion  of  his  tongue  is 
not  in  good  taste,  for  though  this  may  be  physically  true  of 
one  dying  of  thirst,  it  is  one  of  those  unpleasant  truths  that 
should  be  avoided  in  art.  Then  you  should  have  given  him 
more  beauty — I  mean  of  face.  The  mother's  leg  is  a  little  too 
short.  Of  the  defect  of  her  raised  arm  I  say  nothing,  it  having 
been  injured,  as  you  mentioned,  in  the  casting.  These  faults, 
however,  as  I  have  already  observed,  are  the  faults  of  inexperi- 
ence, and  such  as  more  practice  and  the  study  of  good  models 
would  very  easily  enable  you  to  avoid.  I  would  recommend 
your  procuring  prints  from  the  antique  bas-reliefs  of  Greece  and 
Rome ;  the  Admiranda  Romanorum  of  Santo  Bartoli,  and 
Lope's  Grecian  Costume.  The  first  perhaps  could  not  be  had 
except  from  Italy  ;  the  last  you  will  get  from  England.  These 
would  be  of  great  use  to  you  as  to  costume  as  well  as  for  other 
things ;  a  week's  study  of  them  would  let  you  into  the  whole 
mystery  of  sculpture  drapery. 

"  Now,  after  this  praise,  will  you  allow  me,  my  friend,  to  say 
a  few  words  of  a  prudential  nature.  Do  not  let  it  tempt  you  to 
give  up  a  certainty  for  an  uncertainty.  I  say  this  because  my 
nephew  informs  me  that  when  he  left  Carolina,  you  talked,  as 
he  had  heard,  of  going  to  Italy,  to  make  art  your  profession ; 
if  so,  you  must  of  course  give  up  your  office  at  the  Custom 


256 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


House,  which,  if  I  understand  you  aright,  is  now  your  principal 
means  of  support.  You  remember  that  some  years  ago  you  ap- 
plied to  me  for  my  opinion  on  this  subject,  and  that  I  made  no 
reply,  and  for  this  reason  (which  I  supposed  from  your  subse- 
quent letters  you  understood),  because  I  shrunk  from  the  respon- 
sibility. But  I  ought  not  to  have  shrunk  from  it ;  my  con- 
science soon  told  me  so ;  and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  give 
it  without  reserve  and  should  long  since  have  given  it,  had  I  not 
concluded,  from  your  continued  silence  on  the  subject,  that  you 
had  given  up  the  intention.  I  will,  however,  no  longer  delay 
this  discharge  of  my  duty ;  and  do  it  now  the  more  readily,  as 
after  the  high  praise  I  have  bestowed  on  your  last  work,  you 
cannot  impute  it  to  any  doubt  of  your  talents.  What  I  am 
about  to  say,  however,  I  do  not  give  in  the  shape  of  advice  ;  for 
I  as  much  dislike  giving  advice  as  asking  it ;  and  I  never  ask  it 
in  my  personal  concerns,  except  in  some  extreme  case,  where  I 
find  it  impossible  to  decide  for  myself;  and  such  have  very 
rarely  occurred.  I  shall  merely  express  my  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject, leaving  you  to  weigh  it  as  you  think  fit,  and  to  decide  for 
yourself. 

"If  by  making  the  art  your  profession  you  are  to  depend  on 
it  as  the  means  of  support  for  yourself  and  family,  I  cannot  but 
think  that  you  look  to  a  very  precarious  source.  What  may  be 
the  prospects  of  employment  from  private  individuals  you  can 
judge  as  well  as  I,  and  I  no  better  than  you,  for  I  can  have  no 
definite  knowledge  as  to  it  unless  I  were  myself  a  sculptor.  It 
has  often,  however,  been  doubted  by  Greenough's  friends  here, 
notwithstanding  the  high  and  general  estimation  in  which  he 
stands  as  well  for  his  private  character  as  for  his  talents,  whether 
he  will  be  able  to  support  himself  in  Boston  from  private  em- 
ployment alone.  And  if  Boston  cannot  afford  him  sufficient,  I 
know  not  in  what  other  city  of  the  Union  he  can  expect  it.  His 
resource,  they  think,  must  be  at  Washington,  in  works  for  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


257 


Government,  or  in  Europe.  Indeed,  it  seems  to  be  the  opinion 
of  most  persons  that  I  have  heard  speak  of  the  subject,  that  em- 
ployment for  the  General  Government  is  the  only  hope  for  a 
sculptor  who  is  to  live  by  his  profession  in  our  country.  And 
whether  it  is  that  people  have  been  but  little  accustomed  to  it, 
or  from  some  other  cause,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  the  interest 
taken  in  sculpture  is  by  no  means  so  general  as  that  taken  in 
pictures.  Then  the  prices  which  a  sculptor  must  charge,  even 
to  defray  his  expenses,  are  such  as  very  few  in  our  country  are 
either  able  or  willing  to  give  for  works  of  art.  So  I  do  not  see 
much  prospect  even  of  a  bare  support,  unless  he  is  content  to 
confine  himself  to  busts  that  are  portraits.  But  even  supposing 
there  were  sufficient  demand  for  sculpture,  are  you  prepared  to 
coin  your  brain  for  bread — at  all  times  and  under  all  circum- 
stances, of  depression,  of  illness,  and  the  numberless  harass- 
ments  of  unavoidable  debt  ?  To  produce  an  original  work  of  the 
imagination,  requiring  of  all  human  efforts  a  pleasurable  state 
of  the  mind,  with  a  dunning  letter  staring  you  in  the  face? 
With  an  honest  heart  yearning  to  give  everyone  his  due,  and  an 
empty  purse,  I  know  from  bitter  experience  that  the  fairest 
visions  of  the  imagination  vanish  like  dreams  never  to  be  re- 
called, before  the  daylight  reality  of  such  a  visitor.  Poverty  is 
no  doubt  a  stimulus  to  general  industry,  and  to  many  kinds  of 
mental  effort,  but  not  to  the  imagination;  for  the  imagination 
must  be  abortive — is  a  nonentity — if  it  have  not  peace  as  its  im- 
mediate condition.  Pictures  that  would  have  otherwise  brought 
me  hundreds,  not  to  say  thousands,  have  crumbled  into  nothing 
under  its  pressure,  and  been  thrown  aside  as  nothing  worth.  I 
say  these  things  not  querulously  (for  I  have  an  utter  dislike  to 
all  complaining,  and  never  allow  myself  in  it),  but  that  you 
might  know  what  it  is  to  be  an  artist  by  profession,  with  no 
other  income  than  the  product  of  the  brain — which,  to  be  at  all 

available,  must  at  least  be  at  peace.    And  I  give  them  in  their 
17 


258 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


naked  reality  solely  from  a  conscientious  regard  for  your  peace 
and  happiness  as  a  man.  The  love  I  bear  my  art  you  well  know ; 
no  one  could  love  it  more ;  and  I  have  given  proof  of  it  in  the 
sacrifice  I  have  made  to  it  of  my  fortune.  And  yet,  with  all  this 
love,  which  I  still  bear  it,  I  thus  speak  of  it  as  a  profession. 
Because  I  must  speak  the  truth.  But,  understand  me,  when  I 
speak  of  it  thus  as  a  profession,  it  is  when  that  profession  is  as- 
sociated with  poverty.  With  a  competence,  however  small,  so  it 
be  sufficient  to  secure  me  from  debt,  from  demands  that  I  can- 
not satisfy  when  due — then,  of  all  professions,  it  is  that  which  I 
would  still  choose.  But  debt  is  slavery.  And  his  mind  must  be 
free  who  aspires  to  anything  great  in  the  art.  If  you  have  a 
competence,  then  I  should  say,  as  I  once  said  before  your  un- 
fortunate loss  of  property,  follow  your  inclinations.  But  your 
case  is  still  a  happy  one,  though  art  is  not  your  profession  ;  for 
it  may  still  be  your  employment ;  and  it  is  the  employment, 
after  all,  in  which  its  pleasure  consists ;  this  I  firmly  believe. 
Your  office  allows  you,  I  suppose,  the  half  of  each  day  to  your- 
self, and  secures  to  you  the  means  of  devoting  a  moiety  of  the 
year  to  the  pursuit  of  the  art,  in  the  way  you  like  best,  and  in- 
dependent of  the  world.  Ah,  that  word  independent  has  a  charm 
which  I  well  know  how  to  value,  from  having  known  its  reverse. 
But  I  still  have  hope,  and  I  look  for  repossession  of  it  yet. 

"  In  your  letter  preceding  the  last  one  there  was  a  passage, 
toward  the  conclusion,  which  gave  me  more  pain  than,  I  am 
sure,  you  would  willingly  have  afflicted ;  and  I  should  have  felt 
it  most  deeply  had  I  not  ascribed  it  to  inadvertence,  and  to  your 
not  having  considered  the  full  import  of  certain  expressions.  I 
am  certain  you  would  not  have  written  them  had  you  reflected  a 
moment  on  the  construction  they  might  bear.  The  passage  is 
this :  Speaking  of  the  '  Belshazzar,'  you  say :  '  Your  picture 
ought  to  have  been  delivered  years  ago,  and  that  hundreds  near 
me  think  so,  though  they  do  not  say  it,  lest  they  should  wound 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


259 


me ; '  and  you  advise  me  '  to  think  of  this  matter  with  serious- 
ness.' 

"  Now,  my  friend,  I  do  in  my  heart  acquit  you  of  all  inten- 
tion of  giving  me  pain ;  for  you  immediately  add  '  that  it  is  not 
in  your  heart  to  wound  me ; '  I  fully  believe  this.  But  let  me 
ask  you  one  question.  Do  you  believe  that  it  has  been  in  my 
power  to  finish  '  Belshazzar  ?  '  Your  words  '  ought  to  have  been 
delivered  years  ago '  certainly  imply  the  affirmative ;  conse- 
quently, that  it  is  still  unfinished  is  because  I  would  not  finish  it, 
when  I  might  if  I  had  so  chosen.  If  this  were  the  case,  I  could 
not  be  (what  I  know  myself  to  be)  an  honorable  man  ;  for  I  have 
repeatedly  declared  it  to  be  my  earnest  intention  and  desire  to 
finish  it  as  soon  as  it  was  in  my  power.  Then  you  advise  me  to 
think  of  it  seriously.  Does  not  this  imply  that  I  have  intention- 
ally neglected  it  ?  Certainly  it  seems  to ;  for  how  else  could  I 
need  to  be  reminded  of  so  important  a  contract ;  that  could  not 
have  been  put  aside  in  the  memory,  except  intentionally.  It 
was  this  that  hurt  me,  that  anyone  should  think  that  I  could,  yet 
would  not,  fulfil  a  solemn  contract ;  that  I  had  neglected  the  per- 
formance of  it  as  soon  as  it  was  in  my  power,  and  needed  to  be 
reminded  of  my  duty.  But  this,  as  I  have  before  said,  I  am 
sure  you  never  could  have  meant.  No,  Cogdell — I  say  it  not  in 
pride,  but  in  the  simple  consciousness  of  integrity — I  am  one  of 
the  last  men  in  the  world  to  whom  such  moral  delinquency  can 
be  justly  imputed.  And  (though  I  sincerely  believe  that  you  do 
not  require  such  assurance)  I  here  assure  you,  on  the  word  of  a 
gentleman,  and  what  is  more,  of  an  honest  man,  that  it  has  not 
been  in  my  power  to  finish  *  Belshazzar,'  and  that  it  still  remains 
in  its  case  from  absolute  necessity.  Ever  since  I  entered  into 
the  contract  with  my  subscribers  it  has  been  my  paramount  ob- 
ject to  fulfil  it ;  all  my  efforts  in  subsequent  works  have  had  that 
for  their  ultimate  end ;  to  extricate  myself  from  embarrassments. 
(Here  is  a  sample :  It  was  but  four  days  after  the  receipt  of  your 


260 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


letter,  to  which  I  am  now  replying,  that  I  received  a  letter  from 
a  collecting  attorney  requiring  payment  of  a  debt  of  more  than 
seven  hundred  dollars,  and  all  the  money  I  had  was  five  dollars 
and  a  quarter.)  Over  my  wife's  property  I  have  no  control,  that 
being  in  the  care  of  trustees,  and  her  income  seldom  exceeds 
four  hundred  dollars ;  which  (as  repeated  experience  has  taught 
me)  rendered  it  morally  impossible  for  me  to  do  justice  either  to 
myself  or  my  subscribers.  I  have  had  no  other  view  in  anything 
I  have  done ;  and  my  personal  history,  were  it  known,  would 
bear  me  out  in  this  to  the  letter. 

"  But  no  one  has  a  right  to  inquire  into  my  private  troubles  ; 
I  trust  my  word  is  sufficient.  I  will  only  add  that,  though  the 
efforts  alluded  to  have  not  effected  their  end  so  soon  as  I  had  al- 
lowed myself  to  anticipate,  they  have  yet  released  me  from  some 
of  my  sorest  difficulties.  In  plainer  words,  I  am  getting  out  of 
debt.  Some  heavy  and  importunate  debts,  however,  still  remain : 
and  these  I  am  daily  laboring  to  discharge  as  I  have  the  others  ; 
that  done  I  shall  be  free.  And  it  is  my  fixed  resolution  not  to 
touch  1  Belshazzar '  till  I  am  so.  Should  I  attempt  it  now,  it 
would  be  to  no  purpose,  except  perhaps,  to  ruin  it.  If  labor 
could  have  done  it,  the  mental  as  well  as  manual  labor  already 
bestowed  on  it  were  sufficient  to  have  completed  five  such  pic- 
tures. I  alone  know  what  I  can  and  cannot  do.  'Tis  only  with 
a  free  mind  that  I  can  do  justice  to  my  engagement. 

"  With  respect  to  remarks  on  me  by  the  world,  I  shall  en- 
deavor to  bear  them  with  what  philosophy  I  can  muster.  I  have 
lived  long  enough  to  know  that,  let  a  man  act  as  conscientiously 
as  he  will,  he  will  not  escape  censure.  But  my  private  affairs 
surely  are  no  concern  of  theirs.  I  am  not  a  pensioner  of  the 
public.  Do  not  then  trouble  yourself  to  '  defend  me.'  All  that  I 
would  have  anyone  say  in  my  behalf  (if  indeed  anything)  is,  that 
in  a  life  of  more  than  fifty  years  I  have  never  wronged  any  man 
out  of  a  dollar,  and  that  I  do  not  intend  to  do  it  now.    I  hold 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


261 


myself  amenable  only  to  my  subscribers,  and  none  of  them,  to 
my  knowledge,  have  complained.  Should  anyone  of  them,  how- 
ever, think  himself  aggrieved,  feel  impatient,  or  be  from  any 
cause  dissatisfied  with  the  delay,  I  would  most  cheerfully,  and 
without  an  unpleasant  feeling,  release  him  from  his  engagement ; 
and  if  it  be  one  who  has  advanced  his  share,  I  will  repay  it  with 
the  interest,  as  soon  as  in  my  power,  from  the  proceeds  of  my 
present  labors.  I  speak  in  sincerity,  when  I  say  that  I  would 
most  willingly  do  this,  and  without  a  particle  of  resentment. 
Nay,  I  should  even  take  it  as  a  kindness,  if  there  be  any  so  dis- 
posed, that  he  or  they  would  consent  to  this  course,  since  it 
would  be  to  me  a  great  relief  ;  for  I  have  never  ceased  to  regret 
that  I  ever  allowed  myself  to  receive  any  advance  on  the  picture. 

"It  has  always,  from  the  first,  been  my  intention  on  deliver- 
ing the  picture  to  pay  the  interest  on  every  advancement.  No 
one  has  ever  yet  lost  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  by  me,  and  if  my  life 
and  health  are  spared  no  one  ever  shall. 

"  Should  you  see  my  mother,  give  her  my  love  and  tell  her 
that  I  intend  to  write  to  her  in  a  few  days.  George  is  getting 
on  as  well  as  could  be  wished  in  Boston.  Pray  tell  his  grand- 
mother that  he  comes  out  very  often  to  see  us.  He  is  one  of  the 
finest  boys  I  have  ever  known ;  everyone  loves  him.  Mrs.  All- 
ston  unites  with  me  in  best  regards  to  Mrs.  Cogdell  and  yourself. 

"I  remain  sincerely  your  friend, 

"  W.  Allston." 

The  following  is  from  Verplanck  to  Allston  : 

' 1  Fisiikill  Landing,  July  25,  1832. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  send  you  a  New  York  literary  paper  con- 
taining Mr.  Livingston's  official  letter  to  your  friend  Greenough 
on  the  subject  of  the  statue  of  Washington.  You  must  allow 
that  our  Committee  on  Public  Buildings  at  Washington  (that  is 
to  say,  your  friend  Jarvis,  your  neighbor  Gen.  Dearborn,  and  my- 


262 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


self,  for  the  others  cared  little  about  the  matter),  if  we  have  not 
done  much,  have  done  well  what  we  have  done  in  employing  your 
friends  Yanderlyn  and  Greenough,  and  on  liberal  terms.  I  was 
two  or  three  days  in  New  York  last  week,  on  my  return  from 
Washington,  and  found  it  in  a  melancholy  state.  The  chief 
ravages  of  the  cholera  are  as  yet  confined  to  the  most  worthless 
and  minor  part  of  our  population,  yet  there  are  many  exceptions 
which  spread  alarm,  and  the  stagnation  of  business  brings  great 
distress  on  the  industrious  poor.  The  character  and  habits  of 
those  upon  whom  the  disease  has  mainly  preyed  upon,  however, 
gives  me  great  hope  that  it  will  not  spread  its  devastation  unduly 
throughout  our  country.  It  is  still  a  terrible  calamity.  Irving 
was  with  us  at  Washington  and  looks  wonderfully  well,  indeed 
quite  unaltered  since  I  saw  him  in  England  in  1817,  though 
changed  to  those  who  recollect  only  his  sallow  and  thin  Ameri- 
can face.  He  is  now  wandering  about  among  his  friends  in  this 
State,  and  I  hope  soon  to  see  him  again." 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 


LETTER  FROM  EDWARD  EVERETT. — CORRESPONDENCE  IN  RELATION  TO 
PAINTING  AN  HISTORICAL  PICTURE  FOR  SOUTH  CAROLINA. — LET- 
TERS TO  SULLY,  LESLIE,  AND  J.  MASON. — LETTER  TO  LEONARD 
JARVIS  ON  GREENOUGH'S  STATUE  OF  WASHINGTON. 

We  have  in  the  subjoined  letters  a  communication  between  a 
committee  of  three  gentlemen  of  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  Hon. 
Edward  Everett,  of  Boston,  in  reference  to  securing  an  historical 
picture  from  Allston.  Mr.  Everett,  in  a  letter  to  R.  H.  Dana, 
relates  his  part  of  the  transaction  as  follows  : 

"  London,  August  30,  1843. 

"  Dear  Sir  :  I  received  this  morning  your  letter  of  the  14th 
inst.,  and  I  cheerfully  comply  with  your  request.  .  .  .  Some 
ten  years  ago,  I  think  it  must  have  been,  I  received  a  letter  from 
Charleston,  S.  C,  requesting  me  to  apply  to  Mr.  Allston  to  paint 
an  historical  picture  for  an  association  in  that  city. 

"  The  subject  of  the  picture  was  to  be  the  unfurling  of  the 
American  flag  by  the  United  States  Minister  at  Mexico,  from 
the  window  of  his  house,  when  he  was  about  to  be  attacked  by 
an  armed  mob.  The  picture  was  to  be  one  of  the  largest  size, 
there  was  no  limitation  of  price,  and  I  think  it  was  mentioned 
as  a  circumstance  which  might  have  its  effect  in  inducing  Mr. 
Allston  to  undertake  it,  that  it  was  for  his  native  city. 

"  I  waited  upon  Mr.  Allston,  at  Cambridge,  to  communicate 
to  him  the  purport  of  the  letter,  which  he  received  with  cour- 
tesy. He  excused  himself,  however,  from  undertaking  the  com- 
mission upon  these  grounds :  that  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  devote 


264 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


liis  time  as  exclusively  as  possible  to  the  great  work  that  he  had 
so  long  had  on  hand  ;  the  other,  that,  even  if  he  felt  at  liberty 
to  begin  another  large  picture,  the  subject  of  the  proposed  work, 
which  was  of  the  nature  of  a  battle-piece,  was  a  branch  which  he 
had  not  cultivated,  and  did  not  feel  prepared  to  undertake.  I 
do  not  remember  going  a  second  time  to  Cambridge,  though  I 
may  have  done  so  ;  or  I  may  have  mentioned  the  subject  again 
to  Mr.  Allston,  on  meeting  him  elsewhere.  This  is  all  I  can 
recollect  with  distinctness  on  the  subject.  Of  course,  I  cannot 
contradict  the  statement  of  any  gentleman  who  has  a  clear 
recollection  of  any  additional  facts  as  coming  from  me.  I  am 
pretty  sure  the  application  was  first  made  to  Mr.  Allston,  by 
means  of  a  letter  to  me.  I  think  it  was  a  year  or  two  before  I 
was  Governor.  It  proceeded  from  a  gentleman  of  the  '  Union 
Party,'  of  which  General  Hamilton  was  not  a  member.  It  was, 
I  understood,  intended  for  a  public  use  General  Hamilton 
would  not,  at  that  time,  have  been  disposed  to  promote.  .  .  . 
The  picture  being  for  a  specific  purpose,  there  was  of  course  no 
discretion  as  to  the  subject. 

"  My  recollection  of  Mr.  Allston's  manner,  when  I  waited 
upon  him,  is,  except  as  I  have  described  it  above,  indistinct.  He 
may  have  spoken  with  earnestness  and  emphasis,  though  I  think 
that  was  not  his  habit ;  but  there  was  nothing  in  the  proposal  to 
affect  him  disagreeably ;  it  seems  scarcely  possible  that  he,  the 
mildest  and  gentlest  of  men,  could  have  received  it  in  any  other 
than  a  mild  and  gentle  manner.  .  .  .  No  man  regarded  Mr. 
Allston  with  warmer  admiration  than  myself  ;  no  one  out  of  his 
family  circle  more  tenderly  cherishes  his  memory. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  very  respectfully  yours, 

"Edward  Everett." 

It  is  notable  that  the  communication  was  not  made  directly 
to  Allston,  but  through  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Everett,  who  was 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


265 


shortly  after  elected  Governor  of  his  State.  There  was  doubt 
as  to  whether  Allston  could  be  induced  to  undertake  the  work, 
and  as  Mr.  Everett  was  an  influential  friend,  the  committee  had 
recourse  to  him,  as  one  who  would  present  their  commission 
with  the  best  prospect  of  its  acceptance.  This  solicitude  on  the 
part  of  the  committee  indicates  the  success  awaiting  Allston, 
and  that  he  might  have  been  free  from  pecuniary  embarrassment 
but  for  '  Belshazzar.'    Following  is  the  letter  of  the  committee  : 

"Charleston,  April  9,  1833. 
"  Dear  Sir  :  The  enclosed  statement  concerns  the  circum- 
stances under  which  our  national  flag  was  unfurled  by  the 
American  Ambassador  at  Mexico.  It  is  intended  that  they 
should  furnish  material  for  a  national  painting  ;  the  object  is  to 
spread  before  the  eyes  of  our  countrymen,  and  particularly  of 
the  rising  generation,  the  unseen  but  highly  moral  protection 
afforded  by  a  great,  because  united,  people.  Though  it  is  diffi- 
cult for  the  mind  to  calculate  the  value  of  the  Union,  yet  the 
hand  of  a  master  may  successfully  exhibit,  at  a  single  glance, 
that  national  protection,  which,  like  the  pressure  of  the  atmos- 
phere, though  omnipotent  and  powerful,  is  neither  seen  nor  felt. 
The  sectional  excitement  at  present  existing  among  the  States 
obliterating  national  feelings,  these  must  be  revived ;  the  arts 
are  powerful  in  their  operation,  and  lasting  in  their  effects.  "We 
must  have  national  paintings,  national  songs,  national  celebra- 
tions to  excite  and  perpetuate  national  enthusiasm.  The  flag 
of  every  country  is  its  emblem.  It  should  command  respect 
abroad,  adoration  at  home.  The  man  who  loves  and  reveres  not 
his  country's  flag  is  prepared  to  violate  her  laws,  and  destroy 
her  Constitution.  It  is  our  object  to  have  the  Star  Spangled 
Banner  portrayed  in  the  act  of  overawing,  in  a  foreign  land,  an 
infuriated  and  lawless  soldiery ;  and  of  protecting  from  revolu- 
tionary violence  the  objects  of  political  hatred.    To  have  this 


266 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


scene  engraved  is  also  our  object.  That  the  flag  of  our  coun- 
try may  wave  in  every  house,  in  every  cottage,  even  in  every 
log-house  beyond  the  mountains.  That  our  children  may  learn 
before  they  can  read,  to  love  and  reverence  the  emblem  of  our 
country's  power,  and  may  realize  that  it  is  their  guardian  and 
protector,  not  only  on  their  native  soil,  but  in  a  land  of 
strangers. 

"It  is  particularly  wished  that  the  painting  and  engraving 
should  be  finished  at  the  shortest  time  consistent  with  their 
proper  execution.  You  will  therefore  confer  a  favor  by  inform- 
ing us  whether  you  can  undertake  to  carry  our  wishes  into  effect 
within  that  time,  and  on  what  terms.  If  you  can  also  engage  to 
have  the  painting  engraved  you  will  oblige  us,  at  an  early  day, 
with  your  views  upon  the  subject. 

"  Respectfully,  your  obedient  servants, 

"William  Drayton, 
"  D.  E.  Huger, 
"Benjamin  E.  Pepoon, 

"  Committee." 

The  chairman  of  the  committee,  Mr.  William  Drayton,  was 
the  gentleman  who  purchased  Allston's  picture  of  the  "  Cavern 
Scene  from  Gil  Bias,"  in  London,  in  1814.  Allston's  reply 
was  as  follows : 

"  Gentlemen  :  Your  letter  was  handed  me  a  few  days  since 
by  the  Honorable  E.  Everett.  It  has  caused  me  both  gratifica- 
tion and  regret.  To  be  thus  remembered  by  gentlemen  of  my 
native  State  awakens  many  pleasing  sensations  within  me,  min- 
gled with  sorrow  for  the  sad  occasion  which  has  induced  you 
to  honor  me  with  the  proposed  commission.  Strong  as  my  at- 
tachment is  to  the  State  of  my  birth  and  childhood,  I  entirely 
sympathize  in  your  feelings  of  pride  and  patriotism  toward 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


207 


our  common  country ;  and  I  see  also,  as  you  must,  that  the 
safety  and  dignity  of  each  individual  State  depends  upon  the 
union  of  all. 

"  There  is  no  act  of  my  life  that  would  give  me  such  heart- 
felt satisfaction  as  that  of  having  done  something  toward 
strengthening  the  patriotism  of  my  countrymen,  and  arousing 
once  more  in  them  the  feeling  that  we  are  one  people. 

"  I  am,  however,  gentlemen,  compelled  to  forego  this,  and  to 
decline  the  commission  with  which  you  have  honored  me.  I 
have  imperative  engagements  upon  me  that  must  be  fulfilled ; 
and  I  could  not,  without  absolute  injustice,  enter  upon  a  work  so 
important  as  that  proposed  by  you,  till  those  are  completed  for 
which  I  have  some  time  stood  pledged.  While  I  deeply  regret 
that  it  is  out  of  my  power  to  comply  with  your  wishes,  I  doubt 
not  that  there  are  others  at  liberty,  who  can  carry  your  wishes 
into  effect,  and  while  they  accomplish  something  for  the  Union, 
will  add  to  the  fame  of  our  country  in  the  fine  arts. 

"  With  great  respect,  gentlemen, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"Washington  Allston. 

"  In  sending  the  enclosed  you  will  permit  me  to  say  it  is  my 
request  that  it  be  not  published  ;  not  because  I  shrink  from  any 
odium  which  the  declaration  of  my  opinion  respecting  the  pres- 
ent state  of  our  country  might  bring  upon  me,  but  from  an 
aversion  which  I  have  had  ever,  of  unnecessarily  appearing 
before  the  public. 

"  Though  my  lot  in  life  has  been  cast  in  other  lands,  I  have 
never  forgotten  that  of  my  birth.  I  cannot  therefore  but  attach 
a  peculiar  value  to  any  mark  of  regard  from  that  portion  of  my 
country ;  and  I  beg  to  repeat  to  you  individually,  that  I  do  most 
sincerely  appreciate  it  in  the  present  instance.  And  allow  me, 
sir,  also  to  say,  that  it  adds  not  a  little  to  my  gratification  to 
find  myself  indebted  for  this  valued  distinction  to  one,  among 


268 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


others,  whose  personal  acquaintance,  though  short  and  long 
past,  still  retains  a  pleasant  freshness  in  my  memory." 

An  interesting  suggestion  in  regard  to  the  influence  of  water- 
color  practice  on  Turner  is  contained  in  the  following  letter  to 
Sully: 

"  Cambridgeport,  April  11,  1833. 

"  My  Dear  Sully  :  Your  letter  on  Haydon's  picture,  which 
I  saw  extracted  from  Hie  National  Gazette,  does  you  honor  both 
as  an  artist  and  as  a  man.  The  '  Entrance  into  Jerusalem '  is 
indeed  a  magnificent  work  of  art.  Where  the  excellence  is  of 
so  high  an  order,  and  the  beauties  so  numerous,  I  should  think 
myself  but  poorly  employed  were  I  disposed  to  dwell  on  its 
faults.  I  could  overlook  them  all  for  the  sake  of  its  merits. 
'Tis  a  glorious  picture !  If  Mr.  McMurtrie  (to  whom  I  beg  to 
be  particularly  remembered)  should  write  to  Haydon,  pray  ask 
him  to  let  Haydon  know  how  much  I  admire  it. 

"  Pray,  have  you  ever  painted  a  picture  from  the  water-color 
sketch  which  I  so  much  admired  ?  I  mean  the  '  Mother  and 
Child.'  If  you  have  not  and  intend  it,  will  you  allow  me  to 
advise  your  copying  the  sketch  as  closely  as  possible  as  to  the 
color.  I  think  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  transparent  and 
silvery  an  exact  imitation  of  it  in  oil  will  be.  I  am  certain  that 
Turner,  perhaps  also  Calcott,  owe  not  a  little  of  the  richness  of 
their  tone  to  the  circumstance  of  their  having  commenced  as 
painters  in  water-color.  The  foil  of  the  white  paper  to  which 
their  eyes  were  accustomed,  was  the  secret.  To  imitate  this  in 
oil  requires  not  merely  a  high  key-note,  but  a  powerful  impasto 
and  great  clearness  of  tint.  Should  you  make  the  experiment, 
let  me  caution  you  against  improving  on  the  sketch  ;  if  you  do, 
I  venture  to  predict  that  your  labor  will  be  lost.  Try  to  hit  the 
precise  tone,  especially  in  the  shadows. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


269 


The  following  brief  letters  from  Allston  to  Cogdell,  written 
at  this  time,  show  characteristic  traits  of  the  writer : 

"  Cambridgeport,  October  9,  1833. 

"  Dear  Cogdell  :  I  have  been  thinking  of  writing  to  you  for 
several  days  past  to  thank  you,  as  I  ought  long  since  to  have 
done,  for  your  bust  of  Mr.  Elliott.  I  suppose  you  know  it  was 
exhibited  in  the  Athenaeum  Gallery;  it  was  well  placed  on  a 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  I  beg  you  now  to  accept  my 
best  thanks  for  it.  It  is  a  work  that  does  you  great  honor.  In 
execution  it  is  much  superior  to  your  preceding  models ;  and  I 
should  think,  from  its  strongly  marked  character,  it  must  be  an 
excellent  likeness. 

"  I  sent  you  lately,  in  a  letter  to  my  mother,  a  message  con- 
cerning it,  together  with  my  thanks,  that  it  has  been  much  ad- 
mired by  those  I  have  heard  speak  of  it,  and  those  good  judges. 
What  do  you  say  to  my  presenting  it  to  the  Athenaeum?  I 
mean  in  my  name.  You  must  not  think  that  I  do  not  value  it 
by  my  making  this  proposal.  I  make  it  because  I  think  it  will 
be  of  more  advantage  to  you  there  than  in  my  room,  where  few 
people  will  see  it.  A  work  of  art  always  tells  better  (to  use  a 
cant,  but  expressive,  word)  in  a  public  institution  than  in  a  pri- 
vate house.  This  proposal  here  brings  to  mind  a  plan  you  some 
time  since  mentioned  respecting  your  marble  bust  of  Washing- 
ton, when  completed ;  that  you  wished  it  presented  to  the  Athe- 
naeum in  my  name.  When  you  consider  that  a  marble  bust  is 
a  thing  of  no  trifling  value,  would  it  not  come  with  a  better 
grace  from  the  artist  himself  ?  I  think  it  would ;  and  be  better 
received ;  and  so  think  two  of  my  friends  on  whose  judgment  I 
rely.  If  you  think  otherwise,  however,  I  will  with  pleasure  do 
as  you  wish. 

"I  have  had  a  pleasant  visit  from  Fraser;  he  brought  with 
him  several  landscapes  that  do  him  honor.    I  do  not  think  Miss 


270 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Gibbs  would  be  willing  to  let  '  Jeremiah '  go  to  Charleston ;  she 
declined  lending  it  a  second  time  to  the  Athenaeum. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 

"  Cambridgeport,  October  25,  1833. 

"  Dear  Cogdell  :  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  to  my 
mother,  of  which  she  made  grateful  mention  in  her  reply  to  my 
last  letter.  I  beg  you  also  to  accept  my  thanks  for  your  kind 
invitation  to  me.  But  you  are  little  aware  what  an  impossible 
thing  you  propose  when  you  speak  of  my  passing  the  winter  in 
Charleston ;  I  am  not  master  of  my  time,  nor  indeed  of  anything 
else,  nor  shall  I  be  until  I  have  discharged  all  my  obligations. 
It  is  always  a  painful  thing  to  me  to  speak  of  my  personal  con- 
cerns ;  indeed  I  never  allude  to  them  if  I  can  avoid  it.  So  I  will 
spare  both  you  and  myself  the  unpleasant  subject.  All  I  can 
therefore  say  is,  that  I  regret  I  have  not  the  power  to  accept 
your  friendly  offer. 

"  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  White  had  got  a  comfortable  place 
in  the  Custom  House.  His  friend  Dana  and  myself  were  greatly 
disappointed  in  not  finding  a  sale  for  his  picture.  "We  were 
about  to  get  up  a  raffle  for  it  when  we  found  even  that  avenue 
closed  to  us ;  for  it  seems  that  the  State  Legislature  had  passed 
a  law  last  winter  against  lotteries  of  all  kinds,  specifying  even 
raffles. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 

On  the  occasion  of  Leslie's  brief  visit  to  this  country,  Allston 
wrote  him  the  following  letter  of  welcome : 

"  Cambridgeport,  November  6,  1833. 
"Dear  Leslie:  As  I  suppose  you  well  know,  increase  of 
years  has  failed  to  impress  me  with  a  better  sense  than  I  for- 
merly had  of  the  charms  of  letter  writing,  and  I  do  not  mean  to 


Dido  and  Anna. 

From  the  original  sketch  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


271 


write  a  letter  now.  But  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  gratification 
of  sending  you  a  line,  to  congratulate  you  on  your  safe  arrival 
and  to  welcome  you  among  us.  I  have  no  friend  to  whom  I  can 
more  heartily  say,  right  welcome.  Pray  present  my  best  regards 
to  your  wife  and  children,  whom  I  am  predisposed  to  like  on 
your  account,  and  whom  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  like  when  I  see 
them  on  their  own.  My  wife,  who  better  knows  you  by  your  let- 
ters, than  yours  can  me  by  mine,  joins  me  in  this.  I  regret  that 
a  visit  now  to  New  York  is  to  me  among  the  minor  impossibili- 
ties :  for  gold  I  have  none,  and  all  the  silver  I  have  is  on  my  head. 

"Faithfully  yours, 

"W.  Allston." 

In  December,  1833,  Allston  wrote  in  a  letter  to  J.  Mason  : 
"  I  have  just  had  a  pressing  demand  made  on  me  by  my  coal 
merchant,  and  a  smaller  one,  equally  as  urgent,  both  together 
amounting  to  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  which  I  wish 
to  settle  immediately,  but  which  I  have  no  means  of  doing  until 
Mr.  Phillips's  picture  is  finished.  Do  you  think  that  your 
brother  Powell,  who  is  agent  for  Mr.  P.  during  his  absence  in 
Europe,  would  feel  at  liberty  to  advance  that  sum  out  of  what 
would  be  due  on  completion  of  the  picture  ?  " 

Concerning  this  and  other  pressure  of  the  kind  upon  Allston, 
Dana  makes  the  following  memoranda  :  "  '  The  Angel  over  Jeru- 
salem '  was,  I  think,  the  picture  he  was  painting  for  Mr.  Phillips ; 
if  it  was  not  that,  it  was  the  '  Death  of  King  John.'  Mr.  P.  had 
at  a  former  time,  when  Allston  was  greatly  pressed,  let  him  have, 
I  think  it  was  $500,  and  Allston  was  to  paint  him  a  picture 
when  he  could.  No  one  knows  the  misery  of  mind  this  whole 
affair  cost  him,  nor  the  time  it  lost  him.  I  have  a  perfect  con- 
viction that  it  hastened  his  death,  that  what  he  then  endured 
stimulated  his  disease.  What  wretchedness  have  I  witnessed 
when  he  was  struggling  to  go  on  with  it,  and  from  distress  of 


272 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


mind  could  not.  '  Isaac  of  York,'  belonging  to  the  Boston  Athe- 
naeum, he  painted  in  a  very  short  time,  I  forget  how  many  days. 
Allston  said  also  that  he  hit  upon  the  name  of  the  picture  after 
it  was  painted.  From  Allston's  letter  to  Mason,  I  gather  that  it 
was  sold  to  the  Athenaeum  very  soon  after  it  was  finished.  The 
Committee  of  Fine  Arts,  Athenaeum,  afterward  applied  through 
William  T.  Andrews  to  know  whether  Allston  would  consent  to 
have  '  Isaac  of  York  '  engraved  by  young  Morse,  of  Boston. 

"  What  was  the  sum  he  first  set  upon  his  exquisite  picture 
of  '  The  Troubadour,'  I  forget,  but  no  one  was  found  with  taste 
enough  to  purchase  it  at  the  time.  In  the  letter  to  Mason  of 
December  27,  1833,  he  says  :  '  Should  anyone  now  offer  me  $300 
for  "  The  Troubadour,"  I  would  sell  it  for  that  sum.  I  have,  how- 
ever, given  up  all  hope  of  selling  it,  so  that  I  cannot  be  disap- 
pointed if  it  does  not  sell  at  this  price.' 

"  Two  months  later  he  wrote  again  to  the  same  gentleman, 
'  I  am  so  much  pushed  that  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  to 
lower  the  price  of  "  The  Troubadour  "  to  $280,  and  if  that  can't 
be  obtained  to  $250,  but  am  resolved  to  keep  it  if  that  cannot 
be  obtained.  Please  do  not  delay  to  offer  it  for  the  lowest  sum 
if  the  first  cannot  be  obtained,  as  I  am  so  sadly  pressed.' 

"  Distress  for  money  at  last  drove  him  to  part  with  it  for  $70 
or  $80." 

This  letter  from  Allston  to  his  classmate,  Leonard  Jarvis, 
then  a  member  of  Congress,  upon  the  subject  of  Greenough's 
design  for  his  statue  of  Washington  to  be  placed  in  the  Capitol, 
contains  suggestions  and  opinions  interesting  to  artists,  and 
especially  sculptors. 

"  Cambhidgeport,  June  19,  1834. 
'  Deae  Jaevis  :  I  have  received  yours  of  the  6th  inst.,  and 
thank  you  for  your  considerate  kindness  in  leaving  me  to  reply 
to  it  or  not,  as  I  like.    This  is  indeed  a  kindness  to  one  who  has 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


273 


about  as  much  sympathy  with  letters  (when  he  has  to  write 
them)  as  a  mad  dog  with  water.  On  this  occasion,  however,  it 
is  my  duty  to  write. 

"  You  have  described  the  design  of  the  statue  so  minutely, 
that  I  think  I  can  form  as  accurate  an  opinion  of  it  as  if  I  had 
the  drawing  before  me.  I  agree  with  you  in  every  particular  of 
your  criticism  ;  and  so  does  E.  T.  D.  and  K.  H.  D.,  to  whom  I 
showed  your  description.  We  were  all  three  struck,  as  you 
were,  with  the  inappropriateness  of  the  raised  arm.  We  were 
also  of  the  same  mind  respecting  the  idealizing  of  Washington. 
Now,  how  to  unidealize,  without  changing  the  present  general 
design,  hie  labor.  It  can,  however,  be  done ;  but  it  must  be 
done  by  the  artist  himself — nay  it  should  not  be  done  by  any 
other  person;  and  I  am  the  last  man  who  would  dictate  to  a 
brother  artist ;  neither  my  principles  nor  disposition  would 
allow  me  to  do  it,  especially  to  one  of  Greenough's  genius.  All 
that  can  be  done,  or  at  least  that  I  am  willing  to  do,  is  to  throw 
out  suggestions,  leaving  the  adoption  or  modification  of  them 
entirely  to  him.  This  appears  to  me  not  only  the  most  delicate, 
but  indeed  the  only  efficient,  course,  for  no  man  of  genius  ever 
worked  successfully  from  the  mere  dictation  of  another.  He 
must  coincide  with  and  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  change  pro- 
posed, or  his  work  will  not  be  of  a  piece.  Should  Greenough 
so  enter  into  it,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that,  weigh- 
ing the  objections  to  his  present  design,  he  will  not,  I  have  the 
most  thorough  confidence  in  his  success. 

"  As  the  opinion  of  the  world,  that  is,  of  the  competent 
judges  in  it,  seems  to  be  pretty  nearly  balanced  on  the  subject 
of  costume — as  many  preferring  the  ancient  as  the  modern,  I 
shall  offer  no  advice  on  this  point,  and  for  two  reasons :  first, 
because  I  would  not  take  upon  myself  the  responsibility  of  de- 
ciding for  another  artist  on  a  subject  where  good  judges  dis- 
agree, and  secondly,  because  Mr.  Greenough  has  already  decided 
18 


274 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


for  himself.  I  will,  however,  standing  neutral  on  this  question, 
make  a  general  remark  or  two,  on  both  that  may  be  of  use  in 
either  case ;  the  subject  being  the  statue  of  any  distinguished 
person,  of  or  near  our  own  time.  Supposing  the  ancient  to  be 
adopted,  all  minutiae  and  peculiarities  belonging  to  a  particular 
age  or  country — in  other  words,  whatever  tends  to  remove  the 
subject  from  his  own  age  to  another,  should,  I  think,  be  avoided. 
To  adopt  a  distinction  of  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds,  it  should  be 
clothed  with  drapery,  and  not  in  an  antique  dress. 

"  The  Greek  and  Roman  helmet,  cuirass,  etc.,  also,  from  the 
peculiar  manner  in  which  it  is  folded,  the  Roman  toga,  belong  to 
what  is  here  meant  by  dress.  If  the  modern  be  adopted,  though 
it  must,  as  modern,  be  of  necessity  identified  with  our  own  age, 
it  should  still  be  of  so  general  a  character  as  not  to  fix  the  mind 
upon  the  fashion  of  any  particular  time  in  it.  Under  the  head 
of  fashion  I  would  class  bag- wigs,  wigs,  queues,  frizzed  hair, 
flapped  waistcoats,  bag-sleeves,  etc. 

"  How  far  the  ancient  costume  may  be  adopted  without  im- 
pairing the  individuality  of  the  subject,  is  more  than  I  can  say  : 
that  can  only  be  shown  by  the  skill  of  the  sculptor ;  as  to  the 
other  question,  how  the  prescribed  and  scanty  form  of  a  modern 
dress  can  be  managed  with  grandeur,  that  also  must  be  left  to 
his  skill.  The  general  objection  of  artists  to  the  modern  dress  is 
its  meagreness,  as  not  admitting  of  those  masses  so  essential  to  a 
grand  effect.  In  general  this  is  true,  but  there  are  some  excep- 
tions ;  for  instance  the  military  cloak,  which,  without  violation 
of  its  character  (I  use  this  word  technically)  may  be  used  for  all 
the  purposes  of  drapery,  admitting  of  equal  breadth  and  mass 
with  the  ancient  mantle.  But  the  costume  in  the  statue  of  a 
great  modern  seems  to  me  essentially  secondary.  The  character 
of  the  man  is,  and  should  be,  the  principal  thing.  If  this  be 
true,  it  necessarily  limits  the  artist  in  his  conception.  What- 
ever ideas  he  may  have  of  grandeur  or  majesty,  if  they  do  not 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


275 


belong  to  his  original,  they  can  have  no  propriety  in  his  statue. 
He  depends  on  his  subject  for  all  the  grandeur  that  is  admissi- 
ble. But  if  his  subject  should  happen  to  be  of  mean  appear- 
ance? There  is  then  but  one  alternative,  to  make  the  best  of 
a  mean  person,  or  not  attempt  it ;  for  a  noble  figure  would  not 
represent  that  person,  but  his  proxy. 

"  In  the  present  case,  however,  the  artist  has  no  such  difficulty 
to  contend  with,  for  his  original  (I  mean  Washington)  was  not 
only  great  in  mind,  but  of  a  noble  countenance  and  majestic 
stature.  Perhaps  in  all  history  a  grander  subject  for  a  portrait 
statue  could  not  be  found  ;  for  what  attitude  could  be  too  digni- 
fied, what  air  too  grand  for  Washington  ?  Dignity  and  majesty 
were  his  personal  attributes.  With  a  slight  modification,  I  do 
not  see  but  that  the  present  attitude  which  Greenough  has 
chosen  might  be  retained  with  propriety.  Bating  the  raised 
arm,  it  seems  to  me  (as  you  have  described  it)  a  dignified  one. 

"  My  notion  of  the  statue  of  a  great  modern  who  has  actually 
lived,  is,  in  a  few  words,  this  :  It  should  not  bring  the  person 
before  us  as  an  active  agent,  but  simply  as  the  man  whose  deeds 
and  virtues  have  passed  into  history,  and  who  is  already  known 
to  us  by  his  deeds  and  virtues.  To  this  effect,  the  most  perfect 
repose  seems  to  me  essential  in  Washington,  especially  (no  con- 
scious action  should  break  it),  whose  name  alone  fills  the  mind 
with  his  history.  If  any  man  can  be  said  to  repose  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  glory,  it  is  he ;  for  nothing  in  his  great  mission  has 
been  left  imperfect ;  all  has  been  done,  and  is  in  the  past.  We 
need  alone  the  man  as  a  visible  object  of  our  love  and  veneration. 

"  Should  this  notion  be  approved  and  adopted  by  Greenough, 
there  needs  but  a  slight  alteration,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
as  far  as  concerns  the  attitude,  to  realize  it ;  and  that  is  (the  al- 
teration) to  give  rest  to  the  uplifted  hand  and  arm.  I  mean  to 
bring  the  hand  down,  so  as  to  rest  on  some  part  of  his  person,  or 
on  the  chair.    I  know  not  that  the  hand  which  holds  the  sword 


276 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


need  be  altered,  but  I  doubt  the  propriety  of  the  antique  sword. 
A  scroll  would  answer  for  the  composition  quite  as  well,  besides 
being  more  appropriate.  Here  I  beg  it  to  be  distinctly  under- 
stood that  I  abstain,  for  the  reasons  given,  from  any  decision  re- 
specting the  costume.  If,  however,  the  present  be  retained,  I 
am  clear  that  the  breast  and  arms  should  be  draped ;  which 
might  well  be  done  by  a  close  tunic  with  sleeves. 

"  If  you  have  not  already  done  so,  I  beg  you  will  show  to  Mr. 
McLane  that  part  of  my  first  letter  relating  to  'Medora.'  And, 
since  he  is  pleased  to  attach  some  value  to  my  opinion,  I  wish 
you  also  to  say  to  him  that,  notwithstanding  the  objections  to 
the  present  design,  I  have  no  distrust  whatever  in  Mr.  G's  ability 
to  produce  a  statue  that  will  do  honor  to  the  country.  The  clas- 
sic atmosphere  in  which  he  has  so  long  lived  has,  perhaps,  and 
very  naturally,  biassed  his  judgment  in  this  instance  ;  but  that 
he  can  conceive  equally  well  in  another  way  I  have  no  doubt ;  and 
that,  when  he  shall  have  distinctly  understood  what  is  desired, 
he  will  so  modify  his  design  as  to  give  satisfaction,  I  have  the 
most  entire  confidence.  I  know  Greenough  well,  and  if  I  know 
what  genius  is,  he  possesses  as  much  of  it  as  any  sculptor  living. 
His  natural  powers  are  of  no  common  order,  and  he  has  cul- 
tivated them  by  a  severe  course  of  study.  He  is  no  tyro,  nor 
random  flourisher,  but  a  well-grounded  scholar  in  his  art.  To 
this  I  shall  only  add,  that  I  have  been  conscientious  in  every 
word  I  have  written.  On  such  an  occasion  I  would  not  give  my 
best  friend  one  tittle  more  of  praise  than  he  deserved.  You  say 
that  as  a  work  of  art  the  '  design '  is  worthy  of  praise,  etc.  I 
should  have  been  disappointed  if  you  had  not  found  it  so,  still 
more  if  you  had  not  liked  the  '  Medora.'  I  particularly  request 
that  this  letter  may  not  be  suffered  to  get  into  the  newspapers. 
I  have  no  objection  that  a  copy  of  this  letter  be  sent  to  Mr.  G., 
but  it  must  be  sent  entire  and  verbatim,  and  provided  that  he  be 
informed  that  it  is  done  with  my  consent." 


CHAPTEK  XXn. 


VINDICATION  OF  ALLSTON  AGAINST  ACCUSATIONS  OF  INDOLENCE. — 
EXTRACT  FROM  DRAFT  OF  A  LETTER  FROM  ALLSTON  TO  DUNLAP. — 
EXTRACT  FROM  MEMORANDA  OF  R.  H.  DANA,  SR. 

In  Dunlap's  "  History  of  the  Arts  of  Design,"  published  in 
1834,  we  have  sketches  of  lives  of  American  artists  up  to  that 
time.  This  book,  though  defective  in  many  respects,  and  open 
to  criticism,  is,  nevertheless,  a  valuable  contribution  to  the  his- 
tory of  art  in  America.  Among  its  salient  points  are  statements 
and  inferential  allusions  giving  color  to  accusations  of  idleness 
which,  with  no  foundation  in  truth,  were  made  against  Allston. 
Allston,  by  request,  contributed  much  interesting  material  for 
the  sketch  of  his  life,  and  had  Dunlap  added  nothing  to  that 
material,  we  should  have  all  that  need  be  in  a  book  purport- 
ing to  give  nothing  more  than  brief  outline  biographies.  When 
the  book  appeared,  Allston  was  much  disturbed  by  its  state- 
ments and  inferences  touching  his  personal  habits.  In  a  copy  of 
Dunlap's  work,  presented  to  Allston  by  the  author,  was  recently 
found  the  subjoined  portion  of  the  "  rough  "  of  a  letter,  written 
in  vindication  of  himself  against  the  unjust  allusions  referred  to. 
We  give  it  without  the  slightest  revision  or  alteration  : 

"Mem.  wrote  to  Mr.  Dunlap,  March  20,  1835." 

"  At  present  I  will  only  point  out  one — the  only  important 
one — which  is  contained  in  the  last  paragraph  but  one,  which 
contains  but  only  two  grains  of  truth ;  namely,  that  I  smoked 


278 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


and  sat  up  late  ;  the  rest,  that  is,  what  is  supposed  to  have  been 
connected  with  these  habits,  is  not  true.  You  must  not.  think 
that  I  am  here  wincing  at  the  mention  of  my  faults.  I  know 
that  I  have  faults  enough  and  to  spare,  and  what  is  more,  I  have 
long  learned  to  bear  the  mention  of  them.  But  the  fault  im- 
puted to  me  by  inference,  in  this  paragraph,  is  really  not  mine. 
The  passage  which  I  allude  to  as  giving  a  false  impression  of  me 
is  this  :  '  that  the  time  he  threw  away  in  smoking  his  cigar,  and 
delighting  his  friends  with  conversation  and  delightful  stories, 
should  have  been  employed  in  keeping  up  by  a  succession  of 
efforts  the  name  he  had  obtained.' 

"  Now,  the  inference  drawn  from  this  is,  that  I  was  an  idler, 
wasting  my  time  in  company  continuously.  I  cannot  take  that 
to  myself.  I  was  then,  and  am  still,  a  very  different  man.  Next 
to  what  is  vicious,  there  is  no  character  more  offensive  to  me,  or 
one  that  I  would  most  strenuously  avoid  realizing  in  my  own 
person,  than  a  company-loving  idler.  So  far  from  wasting  time 
in  company,  my  friends  both  in  England  and  here  have  often 
complained  that  I  did  not  go  into  it  enough.  I  would  not  be  an 
excuser  of  late  hours.  My  late  hours  were  spent  not  in  company, 
but  in  solitary  study :  in  reading,  often  in  sketching,  or  in  other 
studies  connected  with  my  art. 

"  As  to  general  company,  it  always  was  and  is  to  this  day  irk- 
some to  me.  And  though  I  take  great  pleasure  in  the  society 
of  my  friends,  my  visits  among  them  have  always  been  rare,  and 
from  choice.  Nay,  it  is  the  very  rareness  of  these  visits  that 
sometimes  makes  them  so  pleasant — bringing  out  what  is  most 
pleasant  in  myself.  Strangers  who  have  seen  me  with  my 
friends,  and  observed  the  zest  with  which  I  enjoyed  conversa- 
tion, have  probably  been  misled  by  it,  and  set  me  down  as  one 
who  must  needs  prefer  it  to  labor.  You,  indeed,  have  judged 
me  truly  when  you  say  that  such  '  minds  are  never  idle.'  With- 
out assuming  the  compliment  implied,  I  may  say  that  mine  is  so 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


279 


constituted  that  I  could  not  be  idle  for  six  months  and  continue 
sane.    Either  that  or  my  hands  are  always  at  work. 

"  But  much  as  I  love  the  interchange  of  mind  with  the  liter- 
ary and  intellectual,  still  more  do  I  love  my  art.  I  have  never 
found  the  labor  in  it  irksome,  though  often  plied  in  misery  and 
abortive :  for  when  I  have  been  most  wretched,  and  consequently 
working  to  no  purpose,  it  has  still  been  to  me  an  unchangeable 
friend.  Although  it  is  not  natural  for  any  man  to  desire  the  ex- 
posure of  his  faults,  yet  I  am  not  one  who  would  gainsay  what 
is  true,  though  it  be  against  me." 

At  the  Ferme  St.  Simeon,  at  Honfleur,  France,  a  favorite 
summer  resort  of  artists,  the  celebrated  Charles  Daubigny  was 
met  by  a  young  American  art  student,  in  whom  he  became  suffi- 
ciently interested  to  correct  his  work  from  time  to  time,  giving 
him  valuable  instruction.  By  this  unsolicited  and  kindly  atten- 
tion the  young  painter  was  much  gratified.  The  maitresse  du  logis 
had  from  year  to  year  solicited  each  of  her  artist  guests  to  leave 
a  memento  of  his  visit  in  a  sketch  on  one  of  the  panels  of  her 
doors.  In  this  way  she  had  made  her  house  uniquely  pictorial. 
When  the  great  landscapist  became  her  lodger,  she  ventured  her 
usual  request  that  he  would  at  his  convenience  decorate  one  of 
the  door  panels  of  her  best  room.  Daubigny  cheerfully  con- 
sented. The  young  painter  determined  if  possible  to  be  present 
at  the  painting.  Accordingly  he  began  to  sketch  a  landscape 
from  an  open  window  of  the  room  which  was  to  become  famous. 
One  morning,  quite  early,  while  the  student  was  at  his  work, 
Daubigny  entered  with  his  box  of  materials,  laid  it  upon  a  table, 
took  a  chair,  and  seated  himself  before  the  blank  panel.  The 
young  American,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  all  expectation ;  the 
time  he  had  looked  forward  to  with  the  greatest  pleasure  had 
arrived ;  he  would  now  see  the  great  artist  paint,  and  try  to  learn 
something  of  his  method.    But  his  patience  was  to  be  sorely 


280 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


tried,  expectation  was  to  wait  long  upon  gratification.  Still 
Daubigny  sat  silently  contemplating  the  blank  parallelogram  till 
breakfast,  the  mid-day  meal,  was  announced.  That  over,  he  re- 
turned and  quietly  seated  himself  as  before.  The  young  student 
now  thought  his  opportunity  had  surely  arrived,  and  under  cover 
of  serious  occupation  to  prevent  suspicion  that  he  was  merely  a 
looker-on,  seated  himself  at  his  post  and  apparently  became  ab- 
sorbed in  his  own  work.  Again  the  hours  passed  slowly  by,  with  no 
movement  on  the  part  of  the  master  to  reward  the  student's  vigil. 

The  stimulating  hope  of  the  morning  was  fading  with  ap- 
proaching twilight,  the  shadows  were  lengthening,  hardly  an 
hour  of  daylight  remained,  when,  rising  from  his  chair,  Dau- 
bigny took  his  palette  and  brushes  in  hand  and  began  to  paint. 
The  work  was  rapid :  every  touch  told  with  precision  and 
power.  The  picture  had  already  been  painted  in  his  thought. 
All  that  he  was  now  doing  was  to  place  it  before  his  eye  ;  this 
he  accomplished  almost  as  speedily  as  the  paint  could  be  made 
to  cover  the  panel.  Dexterously  the  masses  were  laid  in,  and 
forms  developed,  till  in  a  short  half-hour,  shorter  than  the  young 
student  had  ever  passed,  the  work  was  completed — a  landscape 
full  of  beauty ;  a  memento  of  a  great  artist ;  an  enduring  joy  for 
the  inmates  of  that  rustic  rendezvous  of  painters. 

Shall  we  call  Daubigny  an  idler  because  he  could  sit  so  long 
absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts,  and  devote  but  thirty  minutes  of 
an  entire  day  to  tangible  work  ?  Pictorial  results  may  represent 
or  indicate  the  work  of  genius,  but  they  do  not  measure  it.  We 
may  not  estimate  as  an  element  in  the  production  of  his  work 
the  preparatory,  severe  study  by  which  Daubigny's  skill  was  at- 
tained ;  but  we  must  consider  the  long  hours  of  his  quiet  think- 
ing, on  that  day  of  the  panel  painting,  as  entering  into  and  giv- 
ing value  to  his  work. 

The  picture  occupied  him  an  entire  day,  albeit  he  painted  but 
thirty  minutes.    The  hard  work,  if  we  may  so  call  it,  was  not 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


281 


confined  to  the  painting  :  it  was  in  the  arrangement,  construction, 
and  complete  development  of  the  picture  in  his  mind.  Had  he 
reversed  the  order  of  his  work,  and  commenced  painting  before 
thinking,  he  might  have  become  involved  and  occupied  several 
days  with  a  less  felicitous  result.  His  genius  was  of  that  strong 
kind  that  can  create  mentally,  and  as  it  were,  finish  his  pict- 
ure before  beginning  it.  This  faculty  is  evidence  of  the  highest 
genius.  Ordinarily,  men — and  men  of  great  ability — need  an 
objective  starting-point,  something  visible  to  build  upon  ;  some- 
thing to  suggest  something  more.  The  higher  genius  works  as 
by  an  inspiration  from  the  inner  to  the  outer,  from  thought-work 
to  hand- work. 

Pleasure  is  tinted  with  a  hue  of  sadness  as  we  recall  the 
scenes  of  more  than  fifty  years  ago  in  that  modest  house  in  Cam- 
bridgeport,  where  Allston  lived.  It  is  sad  that  the  veil  of  time 
should  bury  with  the  evil  of  the  past  its  pleasures  and  its  beau- 
ties. No  day  laborer  was  ever  more  regularly  at  his  post  than 
was  Allston  at  his  work.  He  was  one  of  the  most  industrious  of 
men.  For  over  thirty  years,  after  his  sickness  in  Bristol,  with- 
out an  hour  of  full  health,  disheartened  at  times  by  stress  of  pe- 
cuniary embarrassment,  he  labored  with  great  persistency,  and 
produced  pictures  which,  could  they  be  collected  for  exhibition, 
would  form  an  array  that  would  do  credit  to  the  industry  of  any 
man,  even  though  he  were  not  laboring  under  the  discouragement 
of  want  of  money  and  ill-health.  He  sacrificed  himself  to  con- 
scientious labor.  He  was  imprisoned  in  a  sense  of  duty  and  con- 
stant necessity.  It  seems  a  reproach  to  humanity  that  such  a 
man  should  have  been  so  embarrassed.  That  this  was  felt  by 
many  of  his  personal  friends,  is  shown  by  this  extract  from  the 
Memoranda  of  K.  H.  Dana,  Sr. : 

"  Captain  Hamilton,  in  his  work  upon  this  country,  questions 
Allston's  genius  on  the  score  of  its  being  slowly  productive. 


282 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


The  captain  should  not  have  published  such  a  remark  before  be- 
ing possessed  of  the  facts,  and  after  that  he  would  hardly  have 
done  it.  In  this  off-hand  way,  which  merely  clever  men  have  of 
speaking  of  men  of  genius,  they  harm  themselves,  as  it  serves  to 
dull  their  apprehensions  of  the  infinite  superiority  of  genius  and 
the  essential  difference  between  it  and  mere  talent.  Besides,  it 
weakens  that  reverence  which  it  is  beneficial  to  ordinary  minds  to 
feel  for  it.  See  his  many  designs  and  outlines,  which  show  how 
active  and  productive  was  his  imagination. 

"  Dr.  Channing  had  right  views  with  respect  to  Allston.  He 
considered  that  what  was  done  for  Allston  was  done  for  art,  and 
for  the  world,  and  that  for  ages  to  come ;  that  it  was  not  helping 
a  certain  individual  of  the  name  of  Washington  Allston,  who 
would  by  and  by  die  and  be  forgotten  ;  he  did  not  look  upon  it 
in  the  low  way  of  charity  or  alms-giving,  but  as  wealth  contrib- 
uting to  the  realizing  of  that  without  which  wealth  degener- 
ates into  a  vulgar  drug,  and  man  fails  of  rising  to  refinement. 
These  views  he  many  times  expressed  in  earnest  conversation 
with  me.  He  felt  that  to  any  effectual  purpose  Allston  should 
be  made  comfortably  independent  in  his  circumstances.  I 
had  previously  written  to  Dr.  Channing  on  this  subject,  and 
upon  the  little  good  that  would  arise  from  just  keeping  such 
a  man's  chin  above  water,  instead  of  taking  him  fairly  out 
of  his  seas  of  troubles,  and  standing  him  upon  his  feet  on  dry 
land. 

"  Morse  had  the  same  views,  and  told  me  that  he  once  said 
to  Dr.  Channing,  '  Ask  gentlemen  what  they  would  do  for 
Kaffaelle,  were  he  sent  back  to  earth  in  his  vocation,  and  that, 
let  them  do  for  Allston.'  If  one  man  ever  loved  and  reverenced 
another,  Morse  loved  and  reverenced  Allston.  He  told  me  that 
when  he  found  he  was  likely  to  succeed  with  his  magnetic  tele- 
graph, and  had  the  expectation  of  realizing  a  tolerable  fortune 
from  it,  he  had  determined  to  set  Allston  free  and  enable  him  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


283 


give  himself  to  his  art,  working  simply  from  love  of  it,  adding 
that  he  would  have  done  it  in  such  a  way  that  it  should  not 
have  given  Allston  a  moment's  painful  feeling. 

"  The  very  distress  which  debt  and  embarrassed  circumstances 
throw  the  mind  into,  leads  it  involuntarily  to  find  ease  in 
forming  the  most  improbable  schemes  for  relief,  about  which 
few  can  believe  it  is  really  in  earnest.  Upon  a  severe  affliction 
taking  place  in  Allston's  family,  he  said  with  deep  emotion  to 
my  son,  '  What  a  blessed  thing  it  is  for  a  man  to  have  work  to 
do  in  a  time  of  affliction.  One  may  paint  with  tears  in  the 
eyes — but  to  paint  under  debt ! ' 

"  It  used  to  be  one  of  my  dreams,  that  should  God  bestow  a 
fortune  upon  me,  one  of  the  first  things  I  would  do  would  be  to 
free  Allston  from  all  his  pecuniary  obligations,  make  arrange- 
ments for  his  current  expenses,  so  that  he  should  have  no  more 
anxiety  on  that  head,  furnish  him  with  a  man  to  attend  to  his 
brushes,  palette,  and  all  such  matters,  and  aid  some  clever  young 
artist,  who  might  relieve  him  of  much  labor  on  his  pictures, 
improve  himself  by  doing  all  that  work  on  the  pictures  which 
did  not  require  the  master's  own  hand.  The  simple  presence 
of  a  human  being  with  him  would,  unconsciously  to  himself, 
have  had  a  kindly,  healthful  influence  upon  him ;  while  his 
being  there  as  his  familiar  assistant,  would  have  prevented  any 
disturbing  effect  upon  his  mental  processes. 

"But  Morse  and  I  have  been  waked,  and  behold  it  was  a 
dream.  No,  I  at  times  dream  still,  childish  as  it  may  seem,  and 
fancy  myself  about  doing,  what  in  my  case  I  then  knew  would 
be  almost  an  impossible  thing,  and  on  which  Death  has  now  set 
its  seal,  making  it  an  entire  impossibility;  and  yet  it  a  little 
eases  the  aching  of  my  heart  at  times  to  be  thus  the  child  still ; 
and  may  I  not  then  dream?  Eather,  will  not  minds  have  an 
intuition  of  other  minds,  mental  images  as  they  are  mentally 
projected?"' 


284 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


Social  duties  and  advantages  were  neglected  by  Allston 
because  the  stern  necessity  for  work  was  upon  him  and  his  con- 
science held  him  to  it  inexorably.  Mind  or  body,  or  both,  must 
yield  to  the  unbroken  routine  of  labor  under  the  hard  conditions 
placed  on  him.  This  routine  would  have  been  unbroken,  had 
not  the  charm  of  his  personality,  which  drew  about  him  of  an 
evening  a  delightful  companionship,  brought  occasional  relaxa- 
tion. 


CHAPTEK  XXIII. 


LETTERS  FROM  1835  TO  1838. — ALLSTON  TO  COGDELL,  COMMENTS 
ON  ART. — CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN  ALLSTON  AND  THE  CON- 
GRESSIONAL COMMITTEE. — FINAL  DECISION  NOT  TO  ACCEPT  THE 
COMMISSION  GrVEN  HIM  BY  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

The  first  of  the  following  letters  to  Cogdell  has  an  interesting 
allusion  to  certain  drawings  from  the  old  masters,  which  Cogdell 
had  sent  him,  and  the  second  refers  again  to  Dunlap's  paragraph 
intimating  that  he  might  have  been  of  more  industrious  habits : 

"  Cambridgeport,  March  9,  1835. 

"  Dear  Cogdell  :  I  have  been  intending  to  thank  you  by 
letter  for  your  kind  present  of  the  drawings  of  Cork.  I  was 
about  to  begin  an  apology  for  not  acknowledging  it  sooner ;  but 
I  have  made  so  many  apologies  on  the  score  of  letter-writing, 
during  half  a  century,  that  I  think  I  may  well  be  excused  mak- 
ing any  more  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  Be  assured,  however,  that 
though  so  late  in  its  acknowledgment,  I  have  not  been  the  less 
sensible  either  to  the  beauty  of  these  remarkable  drawings,  or  to 
the  kindness  of  the  donor. 

"  I  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  among  them  the  hands  of 
several  of  the  old  masters,  especially  Raffaelle,  Correggio,  and 
Titian.  Of  one  or  two,  indeed,  I  doubted  for  a  moment  whether 
to  ascribe  them  to  Rubens  or  to  some  high  Venetian  colorist  ; 
but  a  little  reflection  convinced  me  that  these  also  were  in  too 
pure  a  gusto  for  the  Flemish  school ;  so  I  set  them  down  as  Tin- 
toretto's.   The  beautiful  drawing  which  you  presented  to  Mrs. 


2S6 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


Allston  (who  begs  me  to  express  her  thanks  for  the  gift),  there 
can  be  no  doubt,  is  from  the  delicate  hand  of  Carlo  Dolce.  Sev- 
eral of  them,  however  still  remain  unexamined  in  their  cases ; 
for,  as  they  are  too  good  to  be  enjoyed  alone,  I  never  open  them 
but  when  the  pleasure  can  be  shared  by  some  particular  friend. 
The  most  remarkable  peculiarity  of  these  drawings,  and  that 
which  particularly  struck  me  is  this :  that  they  not  only  satisfy 
you  with  their  own  beauties,  but  they  set  the  mind  to  work,  in 
conjuring  up  visions  of  its  own,  a  true  test  of  genius  in  art. 
There  are  indeed  some  other  drawings  of  Cork,  as,  for  instance, 
those  of  the  Holland  and  Cognac  schools,  which  seem  to  have 
a  similar  quality  ;  but  it  is  only  the  property  of  repeating  them- 
selves, or  rather  of  doubling  their  own  images  to  the  eyes  of  the 
spectator.  But  no  such  vulgar  effect  can  in  any  degree  be  possi- 
ble of  these  ideal  drawings.  The  associate  forms  they  suggest 
are  essentially  poetical — not  a  reproduction,  a  mere  alter  et  idem 
— but  a  progeny ;  the  probable  taking  birth  from  the  actual,  and 
from  the  probable  the  possible.  In  a  word,  I  know  not  to  what 
more  analogous  I  can  liken  their  effect  than  to  those  natural 
visions  at  daybreak,  which  the  sun  reveals  to  the  earth,  when  he 
opens  the  lids  of  a  thousand  sleeping  flowers,  that  look  up  to 
him  in  return,  blushing  to  find  themselves  so  happy  and  beauti- 
ful." 

"  Cambmdgeport,  May  18,  1835. 

"  Deae  Cogdell  :  I  wrote  you  last  on  March  10th.  A  day 
or  two  after  I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Ticknor,  mentioning  the 
arrival  of  your  bust  of  Scott.  On  the  same  day  I  wrote  to  my 
mother,  and  requested  her  to  inform  you  of  its  arrival,  and  to 
say  that  I  would  go  and  see  it  as  soon  as  the  nature  of  my 
labors  would  allow  me  a  day  for  that  purpose.  I  did  not  get 
into  Boston  as  soon  as  I  wished  or  expected. 

"  Mr.  Dunlap  has  been  led  into  an  error  by  some  person  who 
could  not  have  known  me  except  by  hearsay,  in  the  account 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


2S7 


given  of  me  in  the  last  paragraph  but  one  in  his  biography  of 
me.  Two  small  items  in  it  only  are  true — the  rest  have  no 
foundation.  My  evenings  were  spent  not  in  the  way  sup- 
posed, but  in  solitary  study,  among  my  books  and  sketches. 
There  is  no  character,  not  in  itself  vicious,  that  I  despise  more 
than  a  gossiping  idler.  Besides,  the  pencil  is  in  my  hand 
daily,  and  excepting  the  Sabbath,  or  when  precluded  by  busi- 
ness, has  been  for  years.  I  shall  request  Mr.  Dunlap  to  correct 
this  in  his  second  edition.  Do  not  let  this  which  I  now  write 
get  into  the  newspapers.  I  am  not  blaming  Mr.  Dunlap,  who 
has  been  most  liberal  to  me  of  praise,  and  who  meant  to  be  im- 
partial, and  who,  no  doubt,  thought  the  account  he  received  cor- 
rect. Besides,  I  have  a  sincere  esteem  for  him,  and  would  on  no 
account  hurt  his  feelings  by  any  indirect  correction  of  it.  I 
intend,  when  I  have  time,  writing  to  him  on  the  subject.  In  the 
meantime  I  would  not  have  this  false  impression  remain  with 
my  friends  at  a  distance.    .    .  . 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 

The  following  correspondence  relates  to  the  project  that 
Allston  should  paint  a  picture  for  one  of  the  panels  of  the 
Botunda  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington  : 

"  Cambkidgeport,  June  24,  1836. 
"  Dear  Jarvis  :  I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  the  18th 
inst.,  informing  me  of  the  passage  of  a  bill  by  Congress  for  sup- 
plying the  vacant  panels  in  the  Botunda  with  pictures  by  Ameri- 
can artists.  For  your  friendly  intention  in  my  behalf  I  beg  you 
to  accept  my  best  thanks ;  but  I  regret  to  say  that,  under  pres- 
ent circumstances,  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  profit  by  them.  I 
had  anticipated  this  contingency,  and  had  long  since  deliberately 
made  up  my  mind  on  the  subject.  I  am  not  a  free  man,  nor 
shall  I  probably  become  one  in  less  than  three  years ;  for  after 


288 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


the  completion  of  '  Belshazzar '  (which  I  expect  to  resume  in  a 
few  weeks)  I  have  several  other  pictures  engaged,  which  I  am 
bound  in  honor  to  finish  before  I  undertake  any  new  work.  An 
expected  picture  at  an  uncertain  time  is  an  incubus  to  my  imagi- 
nation ;  I  have  therefore,  under  this  feeling,  declined  five  com- 
missions within  the  last  eighteen  months.  Could  you  know  but 
the  twentieth  part  of  what  I  have  suffered  from  the  (compelled) 
delay  of  '  Belshazzar,'  you  would  readily  believe  that  my  peace 
of  mind  requires  me  to  withstand  the  present  temptation,  for 
temptation  it  certainly  is  ;  but  he  is  safe  who  knows  when  he  is 
tempted,  seeing  the  end  in  the  beginning.  Were  I  free  from  my 
imperative  engagements  nothing  would  delight  me  more  than  to 
fill  one  of  the  panels  of  the  Rotunda.  It  has  often  been  a  pleas- 
ant dream  to  me  ;  but  I  am  not  my  own  master  and  must  dis- 
miss all  such  dreams. 

"I  would  not  recall,  much  less  repeat,  the  many  injurious 
speeches  that  have  been  made  about  me  for  not  finishing  this 
picture,  though  it  was  a  private  affair,  with  which  the  public  had 
nothing  to  do.  Even  some  who  professed  to  be  friendly  could 
not  forbear  a  hard  word.  I  do  not,  however,  believe  there  was 
any  ill-nature  in  this  ;  but  words,  if  unjust,  may  be  hard  without 
ill-nature.  I  never  quitted  '  Belshazzar '  at  any  time  but  when 
compelled  to  do  so  by  debts,  contracted  while  engaged  upon  it, 
and  which  I  could  discharge  only  by  painting  small  pictures ; 
many  of  which,  from  being  forced  work,  cost  me  treble  the 
labor  and  time  they  otherwise  would  have  done,  and  conse- 
quently left  but  a  pittance  of  profit ;  nay,  some  hardly  enough  to 
cover  their  expenses,  and  of  course  without  the  means  of  return- 
ing to  the  larger  work.  You  know  that  I  have  been  unremitting 
in  my  labors.  For  years  the  Sabbath  was  the  only  time  that  I 
have  been  absent  (except  on  business)  from  my  painting-room, 
and  I  never  sit  there  with  my  arms  folded.  That  I  have  not 
brought  more  to  pass  was  because  I  was  like  a  bee  trying  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


2S9 


make  honey  in  a  coal-hole.  But,  thanks  to  some  noble-hearted 
friends,  those  dark  days  are  now  past.  They  have  taken  me  out 
of  the  squirrel  cage  ;  my  foot  no  longer  falls  in  the  same  place, 
but  every  step  I  take  carries  me  onward.  By  the  assistance  of 
these  friends  my  mind  is  now  at  ease;  but  it  would  not  long 
continue  so  were  I  to  accept  the  commission  which  your  friend- 
ship has  so  kindly  labored  to  procure  me.  If  in  a  private  affair 
the  public  would  reproach  me  for  not  performing  an  impossibil- 
ity, they  can  hardly  be  expected  to  be  more  considerate  when 
every  man  in  the  country  might  claim  to  be  a  party.  '  Will  he 
never  finish  that  picture  for  the  Government? '  might  be  asked 
from  Castine  to  St.  Louis.  No  money  would  buy  off  the  fiends 
that  such  words  would  conjure  up.  I  am  now  an  old  man,  and 
am  besides  too  infirm  of  body  to  bear  these  things  as  some 
might ;  they  would  soon  wear  away  the  little  flesh  I  have.  A 
regard  for  my  peace,  therefore,  will  compel  me  to  decline  the 
Government  commission  should  it  be  offered  me. 

"  But  I  must  wind  up  this  long  epistle  by  again  expressing 
my  grateful  thanks  for  your  kindness,  which  I  trust  you  know  I 
most  sincerely  feel,  though  for  the  reasons  assigned  I  cannot 
avail  myself  of  it  as  you  had  hoped.  That  it  might  not  be 
thought  (from  ignorance  of  my  motives)  that  I  had  carelessly 
1  thrown  fortune  from  me,'  I  wish  you  to  show  this  letter,  in  con- 
fidence, to  Mr.  Preston.  I  have  written  freely  to  you,  as  an  old 
friend,  what  I  could  not  have  written  to  him,  and  it  will  save  me 
the  awkwardness  of  a  more  formal  exposition  of  the  reasons  for 
declining  the  honor  which  the  Committee  would  confer  on  me. 
Pray  present  my  respects  to  Mr.  Preston. 

"  Give  my  best  regards  to  Greenough,  and  tell  him  that  I 
shall  be  right  glad  to  see  him. 

"  Your  old  and  faithful  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 

19 


290 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"  Washington,  July  4,  1836. 
"  Dear  Sir  :  The  Joint  Committee  of  the  two  Houses  of  Con- 
gress, appointed  for  the  purpose  of  contracting  with  one  or  more 
competent  artists  for  pictures  to  fill  the  vacant  panels  of  the  Ko- 
tunda  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  have  directed  us  to  inform 
you  of  their  wish  for  two  of  the  productions  of  your  pencil. 

"  The  only  restriction  in  the  choice  of  the  subjects  would  be 
that  they  must  be  approved  by  the  Committee  and  that  they 
must  serve  to  illustrate  some  events,  civil  or  military,  of  suffi- 
cient importance  to  be  the  subject  of  a  national  picture,  in  the 
history  of  the  discovery,  or  settlement  of  the  colonies  which  now 
constitute  the  United  States  of  America,  of  the  separation  of  the 
colonies  from  the  Mother  Country,  or  of  the  United  States  prior 
to  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution. 

"  You  would  be  left  free  with  regard  to  the  time  when  the 
pictures  should  be  finished ;  the  compensation  will  be  liberal, 
and  the  payments  made  in  proportions  to  suit  your  convenience. 

"  Permit  us  to  assure  you  of  the  personal  gratification  we  de- 
rive from  being  the  organs  of  this  communication,  and  to  express 
the  earnest  hope  that  neither  your  inclination  nor  engagements 
will  prevent  your  acceptance  of  the  commission. 
«  Yie  remain,  very  sincerely, 

"  Your  obedient  servants, 

"  G.  C.  Verplanck, 
"L.  Jarvis, 
"J.  Q.  Adams, 

"  The  Committee." 

Eeference  to  this  project  is  also  made  at  the  end  of  the  long  let- 
ter from  Leonard  Jarvis  to  E.  H.  Dana  concerning  Allston,  dated 
Surry,  Me.,  February  12,  1844,  from  which  we  have  already  quot- 
ed a  number  of  times  in  the  foregoing  pages.    It  is  as  follows : 

"  One  thing  more  and  I  will  bring  my  prosing  to  a  close.  In 
1835  and  1836  Congress  came  to  the  determination  to  have  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


291 


vacant  panels  of  the  Rotunda  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington  occu- 
pied with  pictures  according  to  their  original  destination.  J.  Q. 
Adams,  one  of  the  Committee  to  whom  the  charge  was  intrusted, 
proposed  that  Allston  should  be  the  artist  employed.  To  this 
proposition  our  friend  would  not  listen  for  a  moment.  He  con- 
sidered that  it  would  be  a  grievous  wrong  to  his  brethren  of  the 
palette,  and  he  finally  declined  any  share  whatever  in  the  com- 
mission. His  reasons  were  that  he  was  bound  in  honor  to  com- 
plete the  '  Belshazzar  '  before  he  should  undertake  another  large 
picture,  and  this  would  require  time ;  that  if  he  should  accept, 
every  one  would  think  they  had  a  right  to  inquire  into  the  prog- 
ress of  his  work,  and  this  very  circumstance  would  impair  his 
efficiency;  that  the  reproach  to  which  he  would  be  subjected 
for  not  advancing  like  a  house  painter,  though  undeserving  of 
notice,  would  wear  upon  his  spirits  and  would  finally  destroy 
him.  He  preferred  being  a  free  man  to  being  the  slave  of  a 
multitude.  He  nevertheless  relinquished  the  offer  with  great 
regret,  for  he  had  long  before  selected  a  subject  for  one  of  the 
panels,  on  which  he  loved  to  expatiate.  It  was  Columbus  on  his 
return  from  the  discovery  of  the  Western  World  presenting  to 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella  the  results  of  his  voyage.  He  thought 
this  subject  included  all  the  requisites  for  a  noble  picture.  I  am 
sure  it  would  have  been  if  executed  in  the  manner  in  which  he 
proposed  to  treat  it." 

Following  are  several  letters  to  Cogdell  containing  allusions 
of  interest  to  art,  study  abroad,  CogdelTs  own  work,  the  after- 
ward celebrated  landscape  painter  Thomas  Cole,  to  Powers,  and 
to  the  more  personal  matter  of  the  writer  s  own  health,  already 
at  this  time  seriously  compromised  : 

"  Cambridgeport,  October  18, 1836. 
"Dear  Cogdell:  I  have  the  pleasure  to  acknowledge  the 
receipt  of  your  kind  letter  by  Mr.  Gilman.    And  I  thank  you 


292 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


for  not  noticing  my  long  silence.  This  is  as  it  should  be  ;  for  it 
shows  that  you  are  willing  to  take  me  as  I  am,  which  all  friends 
should  do  as  to  one  another  in  this  imperfect  world. 

"  Your  project  of  visiting  Italy  I  hope  may  be  realized.  I 
shall  rejoice  to  hear  that  you  are  able  to  accomplish  it ;  for,  as  I 
observed  to  Mr.  Gilman,  I  believe  it  would  add  ten  years  to 
your  life,  not  only  by  the  advantage  which  a  change  of  climate 
would  be  to  your  bodily  health,  but  by  the  renovation  which 
that  delightful  country,  with  its  thousand  monuments  of  human 
genius,  would  produce  in  your  spirit.  You  will,  no  doubt,  when 
there,  become  more  than  a  mere  traveller  and  spectator. 
Surrounded  as  you  will  be  by  the  finest  works  of  art,  I  dare  say 
that  you  will  not  be  in  Rome  a  month  before  you  are  hard  at 
work,  up  to  your  eyes  in  clay.  With  the  excitement  that  must 
there  meet  you  at  every  step,  you,  I  am  sure,  will  not  be  con- 
tent with  simply  looking.  You  will  find  yourself  growing 
younger  in  body  and  more  elastic  in  mind,  and  I  should  not  be 
surprised  if  the  consequence  prove  a  development  of  powers  of 
which  you  are  now  unconscious.  The  lives  of  Claude  and  the 
French  sculptor  Falconet  (the  colossal  bronze  statue  at  St. 
Petersburg  of  Peter  the  Great  is  by  F.)  show  that  genius  may 
take  a  start  at  any  period  of  life.  Claude  did  not  touch  a  pen- 
cil till  he  was  forty,  and,  as  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  well  said,  '  We 
are  more  likely  to  have  another  Raffaelle  than  another  Claude.' 
Up  to  the  same  age  Falconet  was  a  common  laborer  in  a  sculp- 
tor's studio.  He  could  then  neither  read  nor  write,  and  was 
withal  one  of  the  multitude.  But  the  genius  which  nature  had 
given  him  suddenly,  but  secretly,  became  *  A  presence '  to  his 
mind  ;  and  he  began  to  develop  it  by  stealth  in  his  scanty  por- 
tions of  leisure  ;  nor  was  he  suspected  of  genius  till  it  came 
before  the  public  in  full  growth.  But  he  did  not  stop  here. 
The  rank  to  which  his  art  had  raised  him  made  him  feel  the 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


293 


want  of  education,  which  the  same  energetic  industry  soon  also 
enabled  him  to  supply.  So  that  he  not  only  learned  to  read  and 
write  his  own  language  in  a  manner  becoming  to  a  gentleman, 
but  finally  mastered  both  Latin  and  Greek.  I  mention  this  not 
as  a  parallel  case  to  yours,  for  you  not  only  have  had  the  advan- 
tage of  an  early  liberal  education,  but  are  already  advanced  in 
the  art.  I  have  only  cited  it  to  show  that  where  genius  exists  it 
is  never  too  late,  while  the  other  faculties  remain,  to  bring  it 
forth.  Of  the  existence  of  this  you  have  already  given  proof ; 
and  I  have  now  only  to  wish  that  you  may  be  placed  in  circum- 
stances where  it  may  have  free  scope  and  come  to  maturity.  To 
this  end,  and  I  suppose  you  will  agree  with  me,  ease  of  mind  as 
regards  pecuniary  matters  is  essential.  As  the  love  of  gain 
never  yet  made  a  true  artist,  while  it  has  marred  many,  so  do  I 
believe  that  no  genius  ever  fully  developed  under  the  pressure 
of  want.  I  call  that  want  which  involves  obligations  that  we  are 
unable  to  discharge,  which  to  the  honorable  mind  (next  to  the 
companionship  of  vice)  is  one  of  the  ills  of  life  most  difficult  to 
bear  up  against. 

"  I  will  furnish  you  with  letters,  when  you  are  ready  to  de- 
part, with  great  pleasure,  to  some  who  are  among  my  most 
valued  friends,  in  Rome,  Florence,  and  London,  each  of  them 
eminent  artists,  whom  you  will  find  also  excellent  men.  Shall 
I  introduce  you  to  them  as  an  artist,  or  as  one  who  cultivates 
the  art  for  his  amusement  ?    .    .  . 

"  I  remain,  your  sincere  friend, 

"W.  Allston." 

"  Cambridgeport,  December  15,  1837. 
"  Deak  Cogdell  :  I  wrote  to  my  mother  in  October,  well  as 
I  can  recollect  on  the  27th,  when  I  begged  her  to  thank  you  for 
the  kind  letter  which  you  wrote  me  at  her  request  to  inform  me 
of  my  poor  brother's  death;  the  melancholy  intelligence  was 


294 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


rendered  still  more  affecting  by  having  to  communicate  it  to  my 
brother  Henry,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  years,  and  who  arrived 
on  the  evening  of  the  day  I  received  the  letter.  The  misfor- 
tunes of  one  of  his  amiable  and  gentle  disposition,  while  they 
saddened  our  recollections  have  still  more  endeared  to  us  his 
memory.  What  a  strange  power  has  the  mind !  I  can  look  back 
!  over  an  interval  of  more  than  forty  years,  and  see  him  as  he 
was  when  a  baby  in  the  nurse's  arms.  And  more  mysterious 
still,  I  can  connect  the  countenance  of  the  nervous,  laughing 
child  with  the  mild,  yet  grave  face  of  his  middle  age,  feeling, 
too,  that  they  are  one  and  the  same.  How  clearly  does  this 
speak  to  us  of  the  imperishable  identity  of  the  soul  through  all 
physical  mutations  ;  for  it  is  the  soul  and  not  the  outward  form, 
which  we  now  recall,  and  recognize,  unimpaired  by  time. 

"  I  have  already,  in  the  letter  alluded  to,  thanked  my  dear, 
good  mother  for  her  kind  prescription,  which  I  shall  certainly 
try  if  I  am  again  attacked  in  the  way  I  described  to  her,  and  I 
don't  doubt  I  shall  find  relief  from  it.  But  temporary  relief  is 
all  I  can  expect  from  any  medicine,  as  my  medical  friend  in  Eng- 
land long  ago  assured  me.  My  complaint  had  even  then  be- 
come chronic ;  and  he  told  me  then  I  must  compound  for  being 
an  invalid  all  my  life.  .  .  .  But  I  am  quite  content  that 
it  should  be  so ;  my  blessings  have  been  more  than  I  deserve ; 
and  for  my  present  portion  of  health  I  am  still  most  thankful. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  have  resumed  the  pencil.  Not  that  I 
would  have  you  abandon  the  chisel,  but  it  is  better  to  have  two 
kinds  of  agreeable  employment  than  one.  It  has  struck  me  that 
your  group  of  1  Hagar  and  Ishmael '  transferred  to  canvas  would 
make  a  fine  picture.  If  you  think  so,  allow  me  to  make  a  few 
suggestions  as  to  the  color,  which  should  be  strong,  but  simple, 
say  red  and  blue — the  tunic  red,  and  a  blue  mantle.  I  do  not 
recollect  if  the  boy  has  a  tunic ;  if  he  has,  I  would  have  that 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


295 


white.  And  let  the  foreground  be  of  a  strong,  reddish  earth, 
with  gray  stones  ;  the  scene  is  a  rocky  desert,  rather  flat,  with 
mountains,  seen  over  a  plain,  at  a  great  distance,  and  the  hori- 
zon marked  by  a  strip  of  light  under  a  murky  sky — you  may 
remember  my  criticism  on  Ishmael's  tongue.  It  should  not  be 
seen  in  the  picture,  I  am  sure.  It  would  be  offensive.  Let  the 
mouth  be  half  open.  Be  sure  you  retain  the  expression  of  the 
mother ;  it  was  very  fine.  If  you  think  with  me  as  to  the  choice 
of  color  for  the  picture,  I  would  recommend  for  the  tunic  Vene- 
tian red  for  the  lights,  and  Indian  red  and  black  for  the  shadows, 
which  you  may  glaze,  if  you  wish  to  enrich  it,  with  lake  and 
asphaltum  ;  never  use  vermilion  in  draperies,  it  is  a  flat  color. 

" .  .  .  You  will  have  a  visit  from  my  nephew,  George 
Flagg,  whom  I  am  sure  you  will  like.  I  write  by  him  to  my 
mother.  He  left  us  about  two  hours  ago  for  Carolina,  by  the 
way  of  New  York.  You  will  receive  this  by  mail.  It  will  prob- 
ably reach  you  by  the  time  he  arrives. 

"  Believe  me,  ever  your  sincere  friend, 

"  W.  Allston." 

"  Cambridqeport,  October  21,  1838. 
"  Dear  Cogdell  :  It  was  my  intention  to  have  answered 
your  kind  letter  of  September  14th  before  this,  but  I  have  been 
prevented  in  various  ways.  I  wrote  to  my  mother  on  September 
30th,  and  was  just  about  to  conclude  it  when  yours  was  brought 
to  me  from  the  post-office.  Believe  me,  my  friend,  that  I  thank 
you  from  my  heart  for  all  your  kindness  to  my  dear  mother, 
and  no  less  for  the  past  than  for  this  last  instance  of  your 
friendly  disposition.  Nor  is  she  unmindful  of  it,  as  she  speaks 
of  you  always  with  the  greatest  affection,  calling  you  sometimes 
her  son  Cogdell.  It  is  needless  to  tell  you  how  sincerely  I  re- 
joice at  the  intelligence  of  your  letter  concerning  the  pension  to 
my  mother.    Added  to  her  small  income,  it  will,  I  trust,  make 


296 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


her  declining  years  more  comfortable  than  they  have  been  of 
late.  I  have  much  doubt  whether  any  claim  on  account  of  my 
father's  services  will  be  allowed,  as  they  were  those  of  a  partisan 
officer  in  Marion's  regiment.  I  may  be  mistaken,  but  I  have 
always  understood  that  the  partisan  officers  served  gratuitously, 
in  which  case  the  Government  may  deny  the  legality  of  the 
claim.  Old  Judge  Watys,  who  was  his  brother  officer,  used  to 
call  him  the  '  young  captain,'  and  always  spoke  of  him  as  a  gal- 
lant officer.  I  have  often  lamented  that  there  is  no  portrait  of 
my  father.  I  think  it  the  duty  of  all  parents  to  have  their  por- 
traits painted  for  the  sake  of  their  children.  The  portrait  which 
I  painted  of  my  mother  before  my  second  visit  to  Europe  is  to 
me  invaluable.  It  was  then  considered  an  excellent  likeness, 
and  such,  too,  I  consider  it.  I  never  seized  a  more  characteris- 
tic expression  and  that  of  a  strong  mind  and  ardent  feelings. 
My  friend  Coleridge,  who  saw  it  in  England,  admired  the  char- 
acter as  belonging  to  no  common  woman,  in  which  I  think  he 
judged  truly. 

"You  told  me  you  had  commenced  'Hagar  and  Ishmael,' 
but  had  been  obliged  to  lay  it  aside  on  account  of  the  sickness 
and  hot  weather.  I  hope  that  the  more  cheering  days  of  the 
coming  winter  will  enable  you  to  resume  it.  If  you  preserve  the 
expression  of  your  modelled  group,  you  will  not  fail  of  making  a 
picture  of  deep  interest.  There  are  few  subjects  so  limited  in 
composition,  so  naturally  adapted  to  awaken  general  sympathy ; 
but  it  is  one  in  which,  from  the  very  circumstance  of  its  sim- 
plicity everything  depends  on  the  expression.  I  use  this  last 
word  in  its  ordinary  sense,  as  relating  solely  to  the  figures — 
their  air,  attitude,  and  faces.  This  you  have  already  in  the 
modelled  figures,  and  this  would  be  enough  if  transferred  to 
canvas.  But  there  is  another  kind  of  expression  which  I  hope 
you  will  endeavor  to  add — that  of  elements  ;  to  make  them,  as  it 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


297 


were  in  sympathy  with  the  human  emotion.  In  this  consists  no 
small  portion  of  the  poetry  of  our  art,  and  this  is  expressed  in 
the  character — that  is,  the  forms,  tone  of  color,  in  short,  the  gen- 
eral effect,  of  the  scenery.  I  remember  one  of  Rembrandt's  fin- 
est pictures  owing  its  whole  sublimity  to  the  background  alone. 
Rembrandt,  as  you  know,  had  no  excellence  in  form,  though  no 
one  ever  surpassed  him  in  expression,  even  in  its  widest  sense ; 
for  he  was  a  poet  in  all  else.  The  picture  I  allude  to  is  '  Jacob's 
Dream,'  which  consisted  of  only  three  figures,  Jacob  and  two 
angels;  the  figure  of  Jacob  about  six  inches  in  length,  asleep 
on  the  ground,  and  nothing  better  than  a  drowsy  Dutchman ; 
but  the  angels,  which  were  only  two  inches  in  height,  and  of 
course  too  small  to  indicate  more  than  the  general  air,  were  from 
the  skill  with  which  they  expressed  that  air,  in  the  remote  dis- 
tance more  like  angels  than  anything  I  have  seen  on  canvas. 
And  they  owed  this  to  the  background,  the  midnight  sky,  the 
fathomless  darkness — I  might  almost  say  the  permeable  pitch — 
in  which  they  moved,  while  the  two  hardly  visible  lines  of  light 
which  formed  the  ladder  seemed  to  sway  with  the  night-breeze. 
Nothing  could  be  more  simple  than  these  few  materials,  yet  he 
did  contrive  to  make  out  of  them  one  of  the  sublimest  pictures 
I  know. 

"  Cole,  of  New  York,  whom  I  believe  you  know,  had  a  very 
beautiful  landscape  in  the  last  Athenaeum  Exhibition  called  '  A 
Dream  of  Arcadia.'  Powers,  a  young  sculptor  from  Cincinnati, 
is  going  to  do  great  things  in  his  art,  if  I  mistake  not.  He  is 
now  in  Florence.  I  saw  him  before  his  departure  and  felt  as- 
sured of  his  success.    He  is  no  common  man." 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 


mrs.  Jameson's  praise  of  the  allston  exhibition  in  boston  in 
1839 — letter  of  allston  to  his  mother  concerning  this 
exhibition — death  of  his  mother — letters  to  cogdell 

AND  McMURTRIE. 

Mrs.  Jameson,  the  well-known  writer  on  art,  when  in  this 
country,  visited  Allston.  The  following  extracts  are  from  her 
beautiful  memoir  of  him,  published  in  1844  : 

"  About  two  years  before  his  death  there  was  an  exhibition  of 
his  works  in  Boston,  an  exhibition  which,  in  the  amount  of  excel- 
lence, might  well  be  compared  to  the  room  full  of  Sir  Joshua  at 
the  Institution  last  year.  Those  who  have  not  seen  many  of 
Allston's  pictures  will  hardly  believe  this ;  those  who  have  will 
admit  the  justice  of  the  comparison — will  remember  those  of  his 
creations,  in  which  he  combined  the  richest  tones  of  color  with 
the  utmost  delicacy  and  depth  of  expression,  and  added  to  these 
merits  a  softness  and  finish  of  execution  and  correctness  of  draw- 
ing— particularly  in  the  extremities — which  Sir  Joshua  never 
attained,  nor,  perhaps,  attempted.  When  I  have  thought  of  the 
vehement  poetical  sensibility  with  which  Allston  was  endowed, 
his  early  turn  for  the  wild,  the  marvellous,  the  terrible — his  ner- 
vous temperament,  and  a  sort  of  dreaming  indolence  which  every 
now  and  then  seemed  to  come  over  him,  I  have  more  and  more 
deeply  appreciated  the  sober  grandeur  of  his  compositions,  the 
refined  grace  of  some  of  his  most  poetical  creations,  the  har- 
monious sweetness  which  tempered  his  most  gorgeous  combina- 
tions of  color,  and  the  conscientious,  patient  care  with  which 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


299 


every  little  detail  is  executed ;  in  this  last  characteristic,  and  in 
the  predominance  of  the  violet  tints  in  the  flesh  and  shadows, 
some  of  his  pictures  remind  me  more  of  Leonardo  da  Yinci  than 
of  Titian  or  Eeynolds.  His  taste  was  singularly  pure,  even  to 
fastidiousness.  It  had  gone  on  refining  and  refining  ;  and  in  the 
same  manner  his  ideal  had  become  more  and  more  spiritual, 
his  moral  sense  more  and  more  elevated,  till  in  their  combina- 
tion, they  seemed  at  last  to  have  overpowered  the  material  of 
his  art,  to  have  paralyzed  his  hand. 

"  As  Allston's  works  were  in  accordance  with  his  mind,  so,  to 
complete  the  beautiful  harmony  of  the  man's  whole  being,  were 
his  countenance,  person,  and  deportment  in  accordance  with 
both. 

"  When  I  saw  him  in  1838  I  was  struck  by  the  dignity  of 
his  figure  and  by  the  simple  grace  of  his  manners ;  his  dress 
was  rather  careless,  and  he  wore  his  own  silver  hair  long  and 
flowing  ;  his  forehead  and  eyes  were  remarkably  good ;  the  gen- 
eral expression  of  his  countenance  open,  serious,  and  sweet ;  the 
tone  of  his  voice  earnest,  soft,  penetrating.  Notwithstanding 
the  nervous  irritability  of  his  constitution,  which  his  dangerous 
and  prolonged  illness  in  1811  had  enhanced,  he  was  particularly 
gentle  and  self-possessed." 

The  hanging  and  varnishing  of  the  pictures  in  the  Allston 
exhibition  above  referred  to  were  intrusted  to  his  nephew  and 
pupil,  George  W.  Flagg.  One  day,  while  overlooking  the  work, 
Allston  called  his  nephew's  attention  to  the  clouds  in  the  up- 
per part  of  the  picture  of  "The  Dead  Man  Restored,"  and 
said  he  thought  they  were  good.  His  nephew  replied  that  he 
liked  the  painting  of  them,  but  thought  the  effect  of  the  pict- 
ure as  a  whole  would  be  finer  if  the  mountain  peaks  were  re- 
lieved against  a  plain  blue  sky.  To  this  Allston  said,  "  No  ! " 
But  the  next  day  he  said  to  his  nephew,  "You  were  right." 
This  conclusion  so  far  emboldened  the  young  man  that  he  vent- 


300 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


ured  further  and  remarked  that  he  thought  the  eye  of  the 
spectator  wandered  too  much  between  the  upper  and  lower 
groups,  and  that  it  would  be  better  if  the  lower  group  were  more 
strongly  painted,  so  as  to  draw  attention  immediately  to  the 
dead  man,  upon  whom  it  was  intended  that  the  interest  should 
chiefly  centre.  Allston  shook  his  head  and  again  said,  "  No,  I 
cannot  agree  to  that,"  and  went  out.  The  next  day  he  came  and 
said,  "  I  have  been  thinking  over  your  criticism,  and  have  come 
to  tell  you  that  you  were  right,  and  could  I  afford  it  I  would 
take  a  canvas  and  paint  the  picture  anew  upon  your  two  sugges- 
tions." The  incident  certainly  shows  very  strikingly  the  frank- 
ness of  Allston's  nature  and  his  magnanimity,  for  it  should  be 
remembered  that  his  nephew  was  at  that  time  a  mere  neophyte 
in  art,  having  neither  experience  nor  reputation  entitling  his 
opinions  to  special  consideration. 

It  was  to  his  mother  that  he  first  wrote  of  the  success  of  this 
exhibition,  and  in  the  following  terms,  which  show  a  touching 
filial  interest  and  affection  : 

"  Cambridgeport,  July  14,  1839. 
"  My  Dear  Mother  :  I  have  been  waiting  for  the  arrival  of 
sister  Polly  before  I  answered  your  last  letter.  ...  I  am 
much  disappointed  that  she  could  not  come  on  while  my  exhibi- 
tion was  open,  but  it  closed  last  "Wednesday,  the  10th  inst.  The 
exhibition  was  extended  a  month  beyond  the  time  originally 
intended,  and  it  was  felt  that  it  would  be  trespassing  on  the 
liberality  of  the  owners  of  the  pictures  to  ask  a  further  exten- 
sion, especially  as  there  must  necessarily  be  a  continued  risk 
from  fire.  It  would  have  been  a  great  gratification  to  me  had 
one  I  love  so  dearly  as  my  sister  seen  these  fruits  of  so  many 
years'  labor.  There  were  forty-five  pictures  at  the  opening  of 
the  exhibition,  to  which  two  were  afterward  added.  There  were 
several  others  in  different  parts  of  the  country  that  could  not  be 


Swiss  Scenery. 

From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  Thornton  K.  Lothrop,  of  Boston. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


301 


obtained.  This  number  was  anything  but  expected  by  the  pub- 
lic; and  when  they  took  into  account  their  elaborate  finish, 
many  could  not  help  expressing  their  surprise  at  my  industry. 

"  This  was  one,  at  least,  of  the  results  of  which  I  felt  sure  ; 
and  I  feel  a  satisfaction  that  I  am  no  longer  misjudged  in  this 
respect.  I  am  now  and  ever  have  been,  since  I  made  my  art  a 
profession,  a  hard-working  man,  and  as  much  so  from  inclination 
as  from  necessity ;  for  the  law  of  my  nature  impels  to  employ- 
ment. I  cannot  choose  but  work,  sick  or  well;  indeed  six 
months  idleness  would  soon  upset  me.  But  these  are  by  no 
means  all  my  works,  as  some  of  the  newspapers  have  imagined ; 
the  pictures  which  I  left  in  Europe,  though  fewer  in  number, 
would  make  a  larger  exhibition. 

"I  cannot  speak  in  terms  too  grateful  of  the  kindness  of  the 
people  of  Boston  on  this  occasion ;  more  especially  of  my  imme- 
diate friends,  the  gentlemen  of  the  committee,  who  conducted  the 
exhibition.  It  was  originally  proposed  by  them,  and  they  asked 
of  the  proprietors  the  loan  of  the  pictures ;  I  did  not  solicit  one, 
nor,  indeed,  would  it  have  become  me  to  have  done  so. 

"  I  have  not  yet  learned  what  are  the  profits,  and  shall  not 
know,  perhaps  for  days,  until  all  expenses  have  been  paid.  The 
expenses,  it  is  supposed,  will  fall  little  short  of  $900,  for  besides 
room-rent,  doorkeepers,  packing,  transportation,  etc.,  there  was 
the  insurance.  As  well  as  my  friends  can  now  guess,  the  net 
profits  will  amount  to  about  $1,500. 

"  You  say  in  your,  last  letter  that  you  hope  I  will  take  good 
care  of  the  money  I  get  from  this  exhibition.  I  have  for  many 
years  been  in  the  habit  of  economizing  with  what  little  I  have 
had,  and  I  could  not  (even  if  I  felt  inclined,  which  I  am  far  from 
feeling)  be  profuse  with  this,  for  it  will  nearly  all  go  immediate- 
ly to  my  creditors ;  I  shall  reserve  only  barely  enough  to  live  on. 

"  Many  people  who  have  seen  these  pictures  think  I  ought 
not  to  be  poor ;  but  my  pictures  are  in  truth  the  cause  of  my 


302 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


poverty ;  they  would  not  be  what  they  are  (at  least  what  the 
public  are  pleased  to  consider  them)  without  the  time  and  labor 
they  have  cost  me ;  and  the  greater  part  of  them  have  not  more 
than  paid  their  expenses,  some  not  that  even.  I  do  not  say 
this,  however,  repiningly.  I  have  long  ago  discovered  that  mine 
is  not  a  money-getting  art,  and  have  been  content  with  it  never- 
theless. I  never  could  make  it  a  trade ;  no  picture  ever  went 
out  of  my  hands  that  was  not,  for  the  time  being,  as  good  as  I 
could  make  it ;  and  the  consequence  has  been  fame  and  poverty. 
Well,  be  it  so  ;  the  fame  gratifies  those  who  are  dear  to  me,  and 
the  poverty  I  can  bear. 

"  As  you  wish  to  see  some  of  the  '  handsome  things '  that 
have  been  said  of  me,  I  will  send  you  in  a  day  or  two  a  few  pa- 
pers, and  more  by  sister  Polly.  Had  it  been  possible,  my  dear 
mother,  for  you  to  have  seen  this  Exhibition,  it  would  have  given 
me  more  pleasure  than  all  the  praise  I  have  had.  I  should  then 
have  doubly  felt  that  fame  was  worth  more  than  money.  I  be- 
lieve if  I  had  none  who  loved  me  I  should  care  little  for  fame. 
I  could  not  say  so,  however,  of  my  art,  for  that  I  must  love 
under  all  circumstances. 

"  That  heaven  may  ever  bless  you  is  the  constant  prayer  of 
"  Your  affectionate  son, 

"Washington  Allston." 

In  the  presence  of  the  writer,  Allston  was  requested  to  sit  to 
Clevenger,  the  sculptor,  for  his  bust ;  but  he  refused,  saying, 
that  while  he  was  pleased  to  have  his  works  seen  and  admired 
he  had  no  wish  to  be  seen  himself.  Subsequently,  however,  he 
did  sit  to  Clevenger,  and  to  his  nephew  just  mentioned.  The 
portrait  painted  by  the  latter  at  that  time  is  engraved  as  the 
frontispiece  to  this  biography. 

The  circumstances  of  his  sitting,  in  violation  of  his  expressed 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


303 


disinclination  to  do  so,  reveal  the  tenderness  of  his  nature.  His 
aged  mother,  then  residing  in  Charleston,  S.  C,  had  long  been 
anxiously  hoping  for  a  visit  from  him.  Upon  being  told  by  a 
friend  who  had  recently  seen  him  that  she  must  not  expect 
him  to  visit  her,  as  he  was  physically  unable  to  endure  the  jour- 
ney it  would  involve,  she  wrote  to  her  grandson,  George  Flagg, 
requesting  him  to  paint  his  portrait  and  send  it  to  her.  The 
letter  was  an  exceedingly  affectionate  one.  George  gave  it  to 
his  uncle,  who  took  it  to  his  room  and  carefully  perused  it. 
Its  tender  expressions  of  love,  setting  forth  the  yearning  of  her 
mother's  heart  to  see  him  before  her  departure,  which  was  so 
evidently  drawing  near;  her  gentle  repining  and  implied  re- 
proach, that  he  had  so  long  absented  himself  from  her ;  all  this 
was  so  charged  with  pathos  that  he  could  not  withstand  its  ap- 
peal. He  returned  the  letter  with  the  remark,  "  I  cannot  refuse 
that."  Accordingly  he  sat  to  Flagg  and  Clevenger,  at  the  same 
time,  in  his  studio  at  Cambridgeport. 

*'  Cambridgeport,  December  5,  1839. 
"Deak  Cogdell:  By  the  brig  Josephine,  Captain  Charles 
Smith,  you  will  receive  two  boxes,  containing  each  a  plaster  cast 
of  my  bust ;  one  for  my  mother,  and  the  other  for  yourself,  of 
which  I  beg  your  acceptance  as  a  small  token  of  my  regard.  The 
bust  was  modelled  for  the  Athenaeum,  at  the  request  of  the  trus- 
tees, by  Mr.  Clevenger,  a  young  artist  from  Cincinnati,  whom  I 
consider  as  one  giving  evidence  of  no  common  mind.  He  has 
been  passing  several  months  here,  previous  to  his  departure  for 
Italy,  where,  if  I  mistake  not,  he  will  produce  a  '  sensation.'  Ho 
has  every  quality  to  make  a  great  artist ;  and  what  is  still  better, 
adorn  a  great  artist,  for  he  isvmodest,  amiable,  and  single-hearted, 
loving  his  art  for  its  own  sake,  and  finding  his  highest  pleasure 
in  its  labors.  It  is  delightful  to  meet  with  such  a  man.  I  know 
not  when  I  have  met,  as  in  him,  so  beautiful  a  coincidence  of  sim- 


304 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


plicity  and  power — one  of  the  few  whom  the  world  would  have 
great  difficulty  in  spoiling ;  for  his  love  of  fame,  if  I  understand 
him  aright,  is  not  mere  thirst  of  praise,  right  or  wrong,  but  the 
purer  desire  of  sympathy,  which,  if  ever  realized,  is  both  the  best 
reward  and  excitement  of  genius.  He  is  a  man,  in  short,  whom, 
if  you  knew,  I  am  sure  you  would  like  with  no  ordinary  liking. 

"  I  suppose  you  already  know,  from  my  letter  to  my  mother, 
written  about  a  fortnight  since,  that  the  '  King  of  Babylon '  is  at 
last  liberated  from  his  imprisonment,  and  now  holding  his  court 
in  my  painting-room.  If  you  have  not  seen  the  letter  I  would 
refer  you  to  it  for  the  particulars.  As  the  time  approached  for 
opening  the  box  in  which  the  picture  had  lain  for  so  many  years, 
I  could  hardly  suppress  some  sad  misgivings  as  to  what  time 
and  confinement  had  done  to  it.  And  you  can  well  imagine  my 
delight  on  finding  it  without  a  crack  or  stain  ;  only  two  small 
places  on  some  subordinate  heads  being  rubbed  in  the  unrolling. 
But  I  find  I  am  only  repeating  what  I  said  in  the  letter  to  my 
mother,  so  I  will  end  by  saying  that  I  feel  that  in  returning  to 
my  labors  upon  it  as  if  I  had  returned  to  my  proper  element. 
By  the  way,  I  must  caution  you  not  to  heed  anything  which  you 
may  see  in  the  newspapers  concerning  this  picture.  They  have 
already  begun  in  New  York  to  fabricate  the  most  fantastic  para- 
graphs about  it.  A  writer  in  one  paper  says  that  he  was  pres- 
ent at  the  unrolling,  that  it  is  already  finished  and  will  be  exhib- 
ited in  a  few  days  ;  the  paragraph,  too,  purporting  to  be  an  ex- 
tract from  the  letter  of  a  Boston  correspondent.  The  writer  adds, 
1  In  my  next  I  shall  give  you  a  description  of  the  picture  !  !  ! '  Now 
the  whole  of  this  is  a  sheer  fabrication.  The  only  persons  pres- 
ent were  four  workmen  and  my  brother-in-law,  who  came  to  as- 
sist in  the  unrolling  and  raising  it  on  the  easel,  but  who  would 
not  look  at  the  picture,  as  he  said  that  he  did  not  wish  to  see  it 
until  it  was  completed.  About  fourteen  years  ago  I  remember 
that  the  newspapers  amused  themselves  pretty  much  in  the  same 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


305 


way,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  then  to  take  no  public  notice  of 
these  fabrications,  nor  shall  I  now,  as  there  would  be  no  end  to 
it.  I  am  determined  that  the  public  shall  not  know  anything 
about  'Belshazzar,'  how  long  I  expect  to  be  still  employed  upon 
it,  or  anything  else.  When  he  is  ready  to  make  his  debut  I  shall 
announce  it  myself.  I  do  not  now  admit  even  my  friends  into 
my  room — so  nobody  can  know  anything  about  the  picture. 

"  You  will  perceive  by  the  bust  that  time  has  laid  his  finger 
on  me  since  you  saw  me.  My  friends  here  think  it  could  not  be 
more  like  me ;  as  well  as  I  know  my  own  face  so  think  L" 

"  Cambridgeport,  January  12,  1840. 
"My  Dear  Cogdell:  Your  letter  of  December  28th  has 
given  me  a  shock  which  I  had  vainly  thought  I  was  prepared 
for ;  but  I  found  I  was  not.  The  advanced  age,  together  with 
the  increasing  infirmities  of  my  poor  mother  had  long  since 
warned  me  that  she  could  not  long  remain  in  this  world ;  and  I 
had  endeavored  to  prepare  myself  for  this  inevitable  and  afflict- 
ing event.  Yet  it  came  upon  me  with  all  the  force  of  an  unex- 
pected blow.  She  is  gone  and  I  shall  never  see  her  more ;  never 
till  we  meet  in  heaven,  which,  God  grant,  I  may  through  His 
grace  be  permitted  to  do.  Her  image  is  ever  before  me,  with  all 
the  mother's  tenderness,  with  the  same  benignant  expression  as 
when  I  last  parted  from  her,  as  fresh  as  if  it  had  been  but  yes- 
terday. And  I  thank  God  that  such  is  the  impression  left  in 
my  heart ;  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  me.  But  this  is  but  secondary 
to  the  inexpressible  comfort  which  I  feel  in  the  deep  conviction 
of  her  present  happiness,  which  her  true  and  ardent  piety,  her 
perfect  Christian  resignation  (of  which  I  have  long  been  assured 
in  her  letters)  all  confirm  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  misgiving — she 
is  now  with  her  Saviour.  There  is  no  consolation  for  the  be- 
reaved like  this.  Nor  indeed  can  there  be  any  other  to  a  believ- 
20 


306 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


ing  Christian.  In  the  midst  of  her  troubles,  which  I  know  have 
been  many  and  hard  to  bear,  this  has  always  crossed  me  as  a 
cheering  thought  in  her  behalf,  that  my  mother  was  a  Christian, 
and  then  I  felt  sure  that,  happen  what  might,  she  would  be 
supported  through  it.  I  can  now  think  of  her  as  my  blessed 
mother,  numbered  with  the  'just  made  perfect,'  where  there  is  no 
more  sorrow,  no  more  trouble.  I  would  not  exchange  this  con- 
viction for  all  the  wealth  and  honors  which  the  world  could 
offer. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  Cogdell,  how  I  loved  my  mother ;  she 
herself  never  knew  all  the  love  I  bore  her.  She  was  the  constant 
object  of  my  daily  prayers.  And,  though  separated  for  so  many 
years  by  most  trying  and  adverse  circumstances,  she  was  never 
a  day  out  of  my  mind.  But,  dear,  blessed  mother,  we  shall  meet 
at  last,  I  trust,  in  another  and  better  world. 

"  And  now,  my  friend,  I  know  not  in  what  words  to  thank 
you  for  the  feeling  manner  in  which  you  have  made  your  melan- 
choly communication.  But  your  own  kind  heart  will  tell  you 
all  I  would  say,  not  only  for  this  last  act  of  friendship  for  me, 
but  for  all  your  past  devoted  kindness  to  my  beloved  parent. 
God  bless  you  for  both.  While  you  mourn  with  me,  even  as  a 
brother,  you  have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that,  to  her  last 
breath,  she  loved  you  as  a  son.  Whenever  you  were  mentioned, 
which  was  almost  in  every  letter  for  the  last  years  of  her  life, 
she  always  spoke  of  you  with  the  deepest  affection.  She  seemed 
sever  weary  of  repeating  your  kindnesses,  and  I  never  shall  for- 
get them. 

.  ,«■•••• 

"  Boyhood. 

"  Ah,  then  how  sweetly  closed  those  crowded  days  ! 
The  minutes  parting  one  by  one  like  rays, 

That  fade  upon  a  summer's  eve. 
But  O,  what  charm  or  magic  numbers 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


307 


Can  give  me  back  the  gentle  slumbers 
Those  weary,  happy  days  did  leave, 
When  by  my  bed  I  saw  my  mother  kneel, 

And  with  her  blessing  took  her  nightly  kiss  ? 

Whatever  time  destroys,  he  cannot  this  ; 
Even  now  that  nameless  kiss  I  feel. 

"  Washington  Allston." 

"  Cambridgeport,  January  31,  1841. 

"  My  Dear  Cogdell  :  I  have  been  long  wishing  to  write  you, 
but,  to  say  the  truth,  my  head  has  been  utterly  barren  of  subject- 
matter  for  a  letter.  I  remember  one  of  Cowper's  most  agreeable 
letters  was  merely  to  tell  his  correspondent  that  he  had  nothing 
to  say ;  and  though  it  was  literally  about  nothing,  he  continued 
to  make  it  as  brilliant  as  a  soap-bubble  reflecting  all  the  colors 
of  the  rainbow.  Would  that  I  had  his  epistolary  talent  to  make 
this  so  too,  for  my  object  in  now  taking  up  the  pen  is  simply  to 
say  the  same  thing.  But  as  I  have  not  his  talent  I  can  only 
state  the  plain  matter  of  fact.  There  is  little  occurring  in  this 
sublime  porte  at  any  time,  least  of  all  at  this  season,  and  what 
does  occur  is  not  worth  noting.  Indeed  I  am  in  a  manner  out 
of  the  world  here,  more  especially  in  the  winter,  though  not 
quite  three  miles  from  Boston. 

"  About  once  or  twice  a  month  I  have  a  visitor  thence  to 
pass  an  evening  with  me,  and  this  is  pretty  much  all  that  I  get 
sight  of  from  among  the  busy  throng  that  is  moving  around  me. 
But  this  I  always  thankfully  consider  as  something  between 
charity  and  a  windfall.  My  own  visits  to  town  are  very  rare, 
seldom  exceeding  a  dozen  in  the  course  of  the  year — for  a  visit 
there  always  costs  me  a  day,  which  I  can  ill  afford.  As  I 
formerly  said  that  I  did  not  intend  to  give  any  account  of  1  Bel- 
shazzar '  until  it  was  finished,  I  shall  only  say  now  that  I  am 
hard  at  work  on  it — and  on  nothing  else.  I  remember  once  tell- 
ing my  mother  that  no  picture  ever  went  out  of  my  hand  that 


308 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


was  not  as  good  as  it  was  in  my  power  to  make  it,  for  the  time 
being.  Neither  shall  '  Belshazzar '  leave  my  room  until  I  have 
done  my  best  on  it.  This  is  not  the  way,  some  artists  might 
warily  think,  to  get  rich.  I  knew  that,  however,  more  than 
twenty  years  ago ;  yet  I  have  never  swerved  from  this  course ; 
for  it  is  better  to  be  poor  in  a  course  which  I  know  to  be  honor- 
able, than  to  be  rich  in  any  other.  This,  with  the  love  of  my 
art,  has  for  so  many  years  enabled  me  to  endure  poverty  without 
repining. 

My  best  regards  to  Mrs.  Cogdell,  and,  believe  me,  my  kind- 
hearted  friend,  ever  affectionately, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

"  Cambridgeport,  March  24,  1841. 

"  My  Dear  Cogdell  :  Did  I  not  know  your  unwearied  be- 
nevolence I  should  fear  to  tire  you  out  on  the  subject  of  my  late 
letters  ;  but  as  I  feel  assured  that  the  interest  you  have  taken  in 
the  matter  is  no  less  from  your  humanity  than  to  serve  your 
friend,  I  shall  make  no  apology  for  these  additional  lines.  Soon 
after  my  last  letter  to  you  I  sent  an  abstract  of  its  contents  to 
my  brother  William  at  Newport,  and  I  herewith  transcribe  the 
following  extract  from  his  reply : 

"  *  Your  letter,  my  dear  brother,  was  received  in  course,  after 
which  I  lost  no  time  in  writing  to  my  sister  (extracting  word  for 
word  what  you  wrote  me  on  the  subject),  who  will  direct  my 
nephew,  J.  A.  Allston,  who  is,  jointly  with  Mr.  Cogdell,  I  sup- 
pose, my  attorney  in  the  matter  which  now  seems  to  distress  you 
so  much;  and  I  notice,  as  I  hope  feelingly,  your  observations 
respecting  the  slaves  inherited  from  our  grandmother.  I  agree 
with  you  that  they  should  not  be  separated  if  possible,  having 
formed  family  connections  with  Mr.  Belin's  people,  nor  be  sold 
to  be  carried  out  of  the  State.  The  price  it  seems  was  fixed  at 
$550  by  the  court,  which  directed  them  to  be  offered  to  Mr. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


309 


Belin,  and  being  more  than  he  was  disposed  to  give,  would  it 
not  be  well  to  sell  him  yours  at  such  a  rate  as  to  induce  him  to 
take  the  whole  ?  I  only  suggest  this  to  you,  as  by  so  doing  all 
the  slaves  might  be  benefited  by  your  intentions,  and  Mr.  Wig- 
fall  and  Henry  be  satisfied.  As  for  myself  (although  you  well 
know  that  I  am  in  a  manner  penniless  and  without  a  profession) 
I  would  make  any  reasonable  sacrifice  which  the  case  may  re- 
quire.   My  views  are  well  known  to  my  sister.' 

"  Now,  my  friend,  I  will  most  gladly  adopt  the  course  sug- 
gested by  my  brother,  that  is,  let  Mr.  Belin  have  my  share  at 
such  a  rate  as  may  induce  him  to  take  the  whole  ;  indeed  to  ef- 
fect this  desired  object  he  should  have  my  share  on  any  terms. 
But  as  Mr.  Belin  might  not,  even  in  this  case,  like  to  make  an 
offer  from  himself,  I  will  here  propose  terms,  namely,  $100  for 
each  of  the  slaves  of  my  fifth  part.  And  the  affair  might  be 
easily  managed  in  this  way.  Let  the  whole  sixteen  be  rated  as 
the  court  has  already  decided,  at  $550  each ;  my  fifth  part  of 
the  proceeds,  say  three  (as  to  the  fraction  I  give  it  in)  slaves, 
would  then  be  $1,650.  Well,  instead  of  paying  me  this  sum  for 
my  fifth,  let  him  pay  me  but  $300.  And,  moreover,  let  this  con- 
tract be  entirely  private  between  you  and  him.  I  wish  no  one 
to  know  anything  about  it,  for  it's  nobody's  business  but  mine. 
Also,  in  respect  to  the  payment,  let  Mr.  Belin  name  his  own 
terms  of  credit. 

"  I  have  only  to  add  that  you  must  not  think  in  the  offer  here 
proposed  I  am  making  too  great  a  sacrifice.  No,  my  friend,  and 
I  assure  you,  on  the  word  of  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian,  were 
the  sum  in  question  ten  times  greater,  I  would  gladly  relinquish 
it  to  effect  the  desired  object.  It  has  not  cost  me  one  moment's 
hesitation,  I  consider  it  in  fact  no  sacrifice  at  all,  for  it  will  give 
me  peace,  which  is  a  treasure  far  above  gold.  And  at  this  time 
especially  do  I  need  peace  of  mind,  in  order  to  do  justice  to  the 
important  work  on  which  I  am  engaged.    You  will  therefore,  I 


310 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


trust,  consider  yourself  fully  authorized  to  make  the  proposed 
private  contract  with  Mr.  Belin. 

"My  best  regards  to  Mrs.  Cogdell.  God  bless  you  and 
yours. 

Yours  affectionately, 

"Washington  Allston." 

The  prints  referred  to  in  the  following  letter  from  Allston  to 
McMurtrie  were  a  set  of  Burnet's  etchings  from  Raphael's  car- 
toons. The  Inman  print  was  an  engraving  from  the  portrait  of 
Bishop  White.  The  "one  exception"  among  the  engravings 
from  Allston's  own  pictures  we  do  not  know. 

"Cambridgeport,  June  15,  1841. 
"  My  Deae  Sie  :  I  received  your  letter  of  the  11th  of  May, 
nearly  three  weeks  since,  but  delayed  answering  it  until  the 
arrival  of  the  box  of  prints,  which  has  just  reached  me.  For  this 
most  acceptable  present  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  best  thanks. 
They  remind  me  of  the  spirited  etchings  of  Piranesi,  and  give 
more  of  the  character,  expression,  and  general  spirit  of  the  car- 
toons than  any  finished  engraving  I  have  seen  of  them.  They 
are  such  as  I  think  must  have  pleased  Raphael,  had  they  been 
done  in  his  time.  Hogarth  used  to  say  to  the  engravers  whom 
he  occasionally  employed  to  assist  him,  '  Give  me  my  character, 
if  you  do  it  with  a  hobnail ; '  often  obliterating  weeks  of  their 
fine  work  without  compunction.  I  wish  I  could  say  that  the 
prints  which  have  been  engraved  from  my  pictures  had  anything 
like  the  truth  of  these  admirable  etchings ;  but  I  have  been  par- 
ticularly unfortunate  for  (with  one  exception)  neither  my  char- 
acter, expression,  nor  effect  is  to  be  found  in  any  of  them  ;  that 
from  '  Jacob's  Dream '  gave  me  an  immediate  fit  of  the  heart- 
burn, which  did  not  leave  me  for  a  whole  day.  It  was  engraved 
for  one  of  the  London  Annuals,  by  a  person  who  seemed  to  have 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


311 


Lad  as  little  notion  of  the  character  of  the  picture  as  of  the  hu- 
man figure. 

"  I  think  you  are  quite  right  in  the  opinion  that  your  son 
should  master  the  elements  of  our  art  in  the  outset.  If  he  does 
not  possess  himself  of  them  now,  whilst  he  is  young,  he  will 
find  it  hard,  if  not  altogether  impracticable  hereafter  when 
he  shall  become  aware  of  his  deficiencies.  Let  him  think  no 
time  misspent  which  he  devotes  to  the  human  form  ;  tell  him  to 
fag  at  it  until  he  can  draw  it  with  as  much  ease  as  he  can  write  ; 
he  will  then  be  able  to  realize  his  most  poetical  conceptions — but 
not  until  then. 

"  The  great  fault  in  discipline  among  our  young  artists  is  in 
their  beginning  to  '  make  pictures '  too  soon ;  to  make  a  whole 
before  they  are  acquainted  with  -parts.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to 
produce  a  pleasing  effect,  either  in  color  or  chiaro-osciu-o,  but 
not  quite  so  easy  to  guess  right  as  to  form ;  and  he  can  do  no 
more  than  guess  who  attempts  it  without  knowledge.  There  are 
hundreds  of  artists  in  every  age  who  pass  a  long  life  in  produc- 
ing striking  effects  without  an  atom  of  truth  in  a  single  com- 
ponent part.  Above  all,  let  his  progress  be  ivith  knoivledge,  for 
only  this  can  secure  an  artist  from  the  impertinence  of  ignor- 
ance ;  from  being  either  irritated  or  disheartened  by  false  criti- 
cism. In  a  word,  let  him  love  his  art  for  its  own  sake,  not  for 
the  contingent  applause,  and  he  will  not  be  satisfied  without  a 
thorough  mastery  of  its  principles  as  well  in  their  minutiae  as 
their  leading  points. 

"  As  to  Dusseldorf,  where  you  propose  sending  your  son,  I 
can  express  no  opinion ;  indeed,  I  have  been  so  long  from  Eu- 
rope that  I  know  not  which  is  now  the  most  eligible  school  for  a 
young  artist.  I  have  reason,  however,  to  think  highly  of  the 
present  German  school,  from  what  I  have  lately  seen  of  some  of 
their  works,  having  been  honored  with  a  very  magnificent  pres- 
ent from  Count  Kaczynski,  of  Berlin,  consisting  of  his  own  val- 


312 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


uable  work  on  German  art,  together  with  numerous  prints  from 
the  productions  of  various  living  artists  of  Germany,  among  the 
principal  of  whom  are  Cornelius,  Kaulbach,  Schnorr,  Bende- 
mann,  and  others,  whose  names  I  cannot  at  this  moment  recall. 
These  specimens  certainly  place  the  German  school  very  high, 
especially  in  purity  of  taste. 

"  I  am  much  pleased  with  the  print  from  Inman  ;  it  is  a  rich 
composition.  If  I  may  be  allowed  a  critical  remark,  I  should 
say  that  the  quantity  of  dark  is  too  great ;  there  is  consequently 
not  enough  of  middle  tint.  But  this  I  apprehend  is  the  fault  of 
the  engraver ;  I  daresay  the  picture  is  different  in  these  particu- 
lars. Were  the  engraver  here  with  his  plate  he  could  easily 
scrape  down  some  of  the  darks  so  as  to  remove  the  objection. 

"  You  have  probably  had  from  Dr.  Channing,  or  others,  some 
account  of  my  late  Exhibition,  where  I  had  the  gratification  of 
refreshing  my  affection  for  your  little  '  Mother  and  Child,'  for 
the  loan  of  which  I  now  send  you  my  thanks.  The  kindness  of 
my  friends,  both  abroad  and  at  home,  on  this  occasion,  is  one  of 
those  pleasant  things  to  think  of  in  my  old  age. 

"  You  mention  having  the  great  picture  of  kind,  good  Mr. 
West  now  with  you.    There  are  heads  in  that  picture  equal  to 
Baphael.     Nothing  can  surpass  the  High  Priest  and  many 
others.    The  Penitent  Thief  has  a  sublime  expression. 
1  remain,  dear  sir,  with  unabated  regard,  yours, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

The  following  letters  to  Cogdell  contain  interesting  details  of 
a  rather  more  than  usually  personal  character  : 

"  Cambridgeport,  November  14,  1841. 
c  My  Deae  Cogdell  :  Before  this  letter  reaches  you,  you  will 
probably  have  received  a  little  volume  which  I  have  just  pub- 
lished, and  of  which  I  beg  your  acceptance ;  I  have  sent  one 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


313 


also  to  our  friend  White.  They  were  shipped  yesterday,  by  my 
publishers,  Messrs.  Little  &  Brown,  of  Boston,  to  the  care  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Hart,  bookseller  in  Charleston.  This  book  1  Mo- 
naldi '  (as  I  have  stated  in  a  prefatory  note),  was  ready  for  the 
press  as  long  ago  as  1822,  but  having  been  written  for  the  pe- 
riodical of  a  friend,  which  was  soon  after  discontinued,  it  was 
thrown  into  my  desk,  where  it  has  lain  until  the  present  time. 
In  the  note  I  add  that  it  is  now  published,  not  with  the  preten- 
sions of  a  novel,  but  simply  as  a  tale.  My  friends  have  for 
years  past  repeatedly  urged  me  to  publish,  but  for  various  rea- 
sons, which  some  perhaps  would  think  no  reason,  or  at  least  in- 
sufficient, I  had  kept  the  work  by  me  so  long  that,  in  fact,  I  be- 
came quite  indifferent  whether  it  ever  saw  the  light  or  not. 

"  Our  excellent  friend  White  has,  I  hope,  received  permanent 
benefit  from  his  journey  to  the  North.  This  visit  was  a  most 
agreeable  surprise  to  us.  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  in  this  mutable 
world  to  meet  with  a  friend  who  retains  in  his  old  age  the 
warmth  and  kindly  sympathies  of  his  youth.  His  old  friend 
Mr.  Dana  felt  no  less  pleasure  than  myself  at  the  meeting.  The 
meeting  of  three  old  men,  who  have  been  friends  for  forty  years, 
is  not  an  every-day  occurrence.  We  were  much  pleased  with 
his  wife.  I  had  another  unexpected,  as  well  as  most  gratifying, 
visit  from  my  cousin,  Dr.  Edward  Mitchell,  whom  I  have  not 
seen  since  wo  were  schoolboys  forty-six  years  ago.  He  was  then 
a  slender,  delicate  child,  now  a  stout,  robust  man ;  I  a  young 
dandy,  sporting  three  silk  waistcoats,  according  to  the  fashion 
of  the  day,  now  a  person  that  ought  to  be  venerable,  and  am  in- 
deed— so  far  as  snowy  locks  can  make  one  so.  We  might  well 
have  marvelled  at  the  metamorphoses  of  time,  and  yet,  though  I 
am  no  longer  a  dandy,  I  do  not  find  that  all  my  youthful  feelings 
have  passed  away.  In  regard  to  some  of  these  I  cannot  admit 
that  I  am  a  day  older.  Should  you  see  Dr.  Mitchell,  give  my 
regards  to  him,  for  he  is  a  worthy,  good  man ;  and  tell  him  how 


314: 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


much  pleased  I  was  with  his  visit.  He  was  much  esteemed  by 
my  mother. 

"  It  is  but  a  few  days  since  I  left  a  sick-room.  I  was  brought 
down  by  a  severe  inward  cold  that  threw  my  whole  system  out 
of  order.  But  thanks  to  my  physician,  through  a  kind  Provi- 
dence, I  am  again  well  and  strong  enough  to  pay  continuous 
court  to  the  King  of  Babylon. 

"  Mrs.  Alls  ton  unites  with  me  in  best  regards  to  Mrs.  Cog- 
dell  and  yourself. 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"Washington  Allston." 

"  Cambridgeport,  December  5,  1841. 

"  My  Deak  Cogdell  :  I  have  received  your  letter  of  Novem- 
ber 26  th,  containing  a  copy  of  the  account  of  Mr.  Laurens,  the 
Master  in  Equity.  In  reply  to  your  question,  whether  I  gave 
my  consent  in  writing  to  my  mother  when  she  sold  the  negroes 
of  the  life  estate  to  Dr.  Mitchell,  I  answer  that  I  did.  My 
mother  asked  my  consent,  as  one  of  the  heirs,  and  I  gave  it 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  most  willingly ;  and  I  beg  that 
this  letter  may  be  considered  as  confirming  it. 

"  I  think  I  acquainted  you  in  a  former  letter  of  my  noble- 
hearted  sister,  Mrs.  W.  A.  Allston's  generous  offer  of  her  share 
of  the  inheritance  from  our  grandmother  to  be  divided  between 
my  brother,  "William  M.  Allston,  and  myself ;  and  I  have  the 
impression  also  that  at  the  same  time  I  informed  you  that,  in 
reply  to  her,  I  declined  receiving  any  part  of  it,  and  begged  her 
to  give  the  whole  to  William.  With  respect  to  this  matter,  I 
have  only  to  add  that  I  still  hold  the  same  mind.  And  (if  this 
letter  is,  as  I  hope  sufficient  authority)  I  hereby  relinquish,  in 
favor  of  my  brother,  William  M.  Allston,  all  that  my  sister,  Mrs. 
William  A.  Allston,  may  have  either  given  or  bequeathed  of  her 
share  of  our  grandmother's  inheritance  to  me.    You  will  there- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


315 


fore,  my  friend,  if  said  share  of  my  beloved  sister  be  set  apart 
for  my  brother  and  myself,  consider  it  all  as  his,  and  remit  it  to 
him  accordingly  when  it  shall  have  come  into  your  hands. 

"  I  had  received,  as  you  supposed,  before  your  letter  reached 
me,  the  intelligence  of  my  sister's  death ;  her  son  John's  letter 
was  received  on  the  20th  of  last  month.  Ah,  Cogdell,  she  was  a 
woman  of  ten  thousand,  in  mind  and  heart  both.  Well,  it  cannot 
be  a  great  while  before  I  shall  be  called  to  follow  her.  I  have 
often  of  late  thought  of  that  inevitable  hour,  that  sooner  or  later 
must  come  for  me,  as  well  as  for  those  I  have  loved  and  lost. 
This  dear  sister  is  now,  as  I  believe,  with  her  Saviour,  for  she 
was  a  Christian,  and  died  in  a  Christian's  hope.  From  my 
heart  do  I  feel  for  her  husband,  a  noble,  high-minded  man, 
every  way  worthy  of  such  a  wife.  I  have  written  to  him,  and  I 
trust  that  my  letter  may  not  be  wholly  without  comfort  to  him, 
at  least  after  the  first  shock  from  such  a  bereavement  shall  have 
been  mitigated  by  time. 

"My  dear  Cogdell,  with  my  whole  heart  do  I  reciprocate 
your  kind  wishes  in  my  behalf.  Mrs.  Allston  joins  me  in  best 
wishes  to  Mrs.  Cogdell  and  yourself. 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"Washington  Allston." 


CHAPTEK  XXY. 


allston's  letters  during  the  last  years  of  his  life  :  TO 

COUNT  RACZYNSKI,  ON  GERMAN  ART;  TO  McMURTRIE  AND  COG- 
DELL. — EXHIBITION  OF  "  SPALATRO  "  IN  CHARLESTON,  S.  C. — 
CHARLES  FRASER'S  OPINION  OF  THE  WORK. — LETTERS  TO  LESLIE 
AND  TO  THE  WIDOW  OF  DR.  WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING. 

During  the  last  years  of  his  life  Allston's  letters  show  an  un- 
abated interest  in  the  subjects  that  had  been  his  constant  preoc- 
cupation, and  as  searching  and  sapient  comments  on  them  as  in 
his  earlier  days.  We  give  herewith  one  to  Count  Raczynski,  the 
Polish  writer  on  art,  author  of  the  "  History  of  Modern  Art  in 
Germany,"  and  Prussian  Ambassador  at  various  courts  : 

"  Cambridgeport,  March  6,  1842. 

"  Monsieur  le  Comte  :  For  the  gift  of  your  valuable  work 
on  '  Modern  Art,'  together  with  the  prints  from  German  artists, 
which  you  have  done  me  the  honor  to  present  me,  I  beg  you  to 
accept  my  best  thanks. 

"  Permit  me,  sir,  to  say  that  I  was  most  agreeably  struck 
with  the  pure  taste  which  everywhere  pervades  your  volumes ; 
and  as  one  who  loves  his  art,  and  therefore  interested  in  what- 
ever tends  to  elevate  its  character,  I  sincerely  hope  that  the 
sound  criticisms  they  contain  will  be  felt  and  appreciated  in 
other  countries  besides  Germany.  And  I  cannot  doubt  that 
such  will  be  the  case  wherever  your  work  is  known ;  at  least 
with  those  who  acknowledge  in  art  a  higher  end  than  mere 
gratification  of  the  senses. 

"  The  prints  which  accompany  your  books  give  me  a  high 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


317 


opinion  of  the  present  German  school.  I  was  particularly 
pleased  to  notice  in  most  of  them  so  pure  a  taste  in  form,  and  in 
all  the  entire  absence  of  the  theatrical  and  fantastic  in  composi- 
tion ;  even  where  some  of  the  subjects  might  have  tempted  the 
artist  to  extravagance  I  found  nothing  to  revolt  me,  as  'over- 
stepping the  modesty  of  Nature.'  Indeed  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable instances  I  have  ever  met  of  this  rare  discretion  is  in 
Kaulbach's  '  Combat '  in  the  air  between  the  Huns  and  Komans  ; 
though  in  the  highest  degree  visionary,  the  improbable  is  yet 
so  tempered  by  the  true  that  the  imagination  does  not  doubt  it 
for  a  moment.  Only  a  genius  of  a  high  order,  a  master  of  the 
poetic  nature  of  the  imaginative  possible,  could  have  produced 
such  a  work.  I  know  nothing  in  modem  art  which  I  would 
place  before  it ;  no  dream  ever  brought  with  it  a  deeper  faith, 
and  I  longed,  as  I  looked  on  it,  to  take  the  hand  of  the  artist 
and  express  to  him  my  admiration.  It  is  not  to  the  purpose  to 
say  which  of  the  artists  appeared  to  me  the  best ;  but  I  cannot 
forbear  mentioning,  as  among  the  first,  together  with  Kaulbach, 
Cornelius,  Bendemann,  Schadow,  Schnorr,  and  Meyer.  To 
these,  were  it  necessary,  I  might  add  several  other  names  not 
unworthy  to  be  classed  with  them. 

"  For  the  kind  notice  with  which  you  have  been  pleased  to 
honor  me,  in  your  account  of  American  artists,  I  beg  you,  sir,  to 
accept  my  respectful  acknowledgments.  I  have  the  honor  to  be, 
Monsieur  le  Comte, 

"  Your  obliged  and  obedient  servant, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

Renewed  testimony  to  Allston's  anxiety  to  finish  his  "  Bel- 
shazzar  "  is  furnished  incidentally  in  this  letter  to  McMurtrie : 

"  Cambridgeport,  June  23,  1842. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  have  received  your  present,  the  sketch  of 
1  Prometheus,'  by  Mr.  West,  for  which  I  beg  you  to  accept  my 


318 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


thanks.  But  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  send 
you  such  a  drawing  as  I  could  wish ;  I  can  only  send  one  or  two 
pencil  sketches — hardly  worth  your  acceptance,  except  for  the 
good- will  that  accompanies  them.  I  hope,  however,  to  be  able, 
at  some  future  time,  to  add  something  better.  Though  I  have 
a  very  considerable  number  of  sketches,  they  are,  for  various 
reasons,  such  as  I  could  not  well  spare,  being  for  the  most 
part  compositions  on  large  mill-boards,  or  on  canvas,  for  future 
pictures,  with  some  few  that  I  wish  to  preserve  as  memo- 
randa of  former  works.  On  paper  I  have  rarely  sketched  of 
late  years. 

"Perhaps  no  artist  has  been  more  careless  than  myself  of 
his  sketches,  the  greater  part  having  been  lost,  destroyed,  given 
away,  or  otherwise  disposed  of,  years  ago.  I  have  often  of  late 
regretted  that  I  took  not  better  care  of  them.  The  pencil 
sketches  referred  to,  being  small,  I  will  enclose  within  the  leaves 
of  a  volume  which  I  published  last  summer,  and  of  which  I  ask 
your  acceptance.  The  book  was  first  published  in  Boston,  but 
the  copy  I  send  you  is  from  the  London  edition  of  it,  which  I 
have  just  received. 

"  I  very  much  regret  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  avail  my- 
self of  your  friend's  wish  to  possess  a  picture  by  me ;  my  en- 
gagements being  such  as  to  oblige  me  to  decline  any  commis- 
sions, which  I  should  have  been  otherwise  glad  to  undertake. 
Besides  '  Belshazzar,'  on  which  I  am  now  exclusively  employed, 
and  shall  continue  to  be  until  it  is  completed,  I  have  already  en- 
gaged pictures  enough  to  occupy  me  many  years  (perhaps  more 
than  I  can  expect  to  live) ;  the  picture  you  refer  to  in  your  letter 
has  been  sold  several  years  since.  I  suppose  it  is  the  one  which 
Coleridge  named  '  The  Sisters,'  and  which  Sully  (it  being  a  fa- 
vorite with  him),  may  have  described  to  you.  One  head  in  it — 
as  to  air  and  colors,  but  not  in  character  or  head-dress — was  imi- 
tated from  the  picture  by  Titian,  called  his  daughter  holding  up 


The  Sisters, 


From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  Thornton  K.  Lothrop,  of  Boston. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


319 


a  casket.  The  other  figure,  with  the  rest  of  the  composition, 
choice  of  colors,  etc.,  was  mine.    .    .  . 

"  Believe  me,  dear  sir,  with  unabated  regard, 

"Sincerely  yours, 

"Washington  Allston." 

A  letter,  dated  July  4,  1842,  from  Cambridgeport,  to  Cogdell 
contains  the  following : 

"I  congratulate  you  on  your  present  prospect  of  visiting 
Italy.  And  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  new  spring  it  will  give  both 
to  your  mind  and  constitution  will  add  many  years  to  your  life, 
and  that  they  will  be  happy  ones  I  venture  to  predict ;  for  with 
health  and  competence  (even  though  it  be  barely  sufficient  to  se- 
cure one  from  the  slavery  of  debt)  what  is  to  prevent  a  pleasura- 
ble flow  to  time  in  the  free  pursuit  of  our  most  innocent  art  ? 

"  Your  promised  introduction  to  the  Pope,  in  presenting  him 
with  the  portrait  of  Bishop  England,  I  should  think  must  be  of 
great  advantage  to  you.  As  to  the  glowing  works  of  art  by 
which  you  will  be  surrounded  in  Home — they  will  breathe  new 
life  into  you.  Even  at  this  distance  of  time  I  live  upon  them  in 
memory.  In  that  '  Silent  City,'  as  my  friend  Coleridge  used  to 
call  it,  were  some  of  my  happiest  dreams ;  for  they  were  the 
dreams  of  youth,  to  which  even  the  then  gorgeous  present  was 
but  a  dark  foreground  to  the  beautiful  and  dazzling  distance  of 
the  future.  And  though  my  approaches  to  that  future  have  uni- 
formly caused  it  to  fade  more  and  more  into  the  common  day- 
light, laying  bare  to  the  senses  the  illusions  of  the  mind,  yet  I 
do  not  regret  that  I  once  so  dreamed  of  it ;  since  I  have  only, 
as  if  reversing  a  telescope,  to  look  back  into  the  past,  even  from 
my  present  foreground,  matter  of  fact  as  it  is,  to  see  the  same 
delightful,  though  imaginary  distance — dimmed,  indeed,  because 
diminished,  but  still  the  same.    The  visions  of  the  past  are  not 


320 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


always  lost  to  us ;  they  may  become  less  defined,  but  they  do 
not  all  vanish  ;  and  I  have  still  enough  of  them  (thank  Heaven  !) 
to  call  up  at  will,  to  embellish,  as  it  were  with  pleasant  pict- 
ures, the  homely  walls  of  the  immediate  reality.  No,  whatever 
changes  have  fallen  to  my  lot,  I  cannot  regret  these  illusions ; 
my  youth  was  one,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  of  intense  life,  and  the 
mere  memory  of  it  were  sufficient  to  keep  me  from  repining. 

"  Ever,  affectionately,  your  friend, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

In  the  year  1842  Allston's  picture  of  "  Spalatro  "  was  exhib- 
ited in  South  Carolina.  Of  this  picture  his  friend  Charles  Era- 
ser said  :  "  Of  all  his  pictures  I  give  '  Spalatro  '  the  preference. 
Once  seen,  it  can  never  be  forgotten  ;  the  scene  is  one  of  terrific 
interest,  and  the  murderer  appears  to  tremble  ;  the  flame  and 
light  from  the  lamp  are  perfect."  To  the  Magnolia,  a  literary 
magazine,  formerly  published  in  Charleston,  Fraser  contributed 
the  following,  September,  1842 : 

"  ' A  scene  from  Mrs.  Kadcliffe's  "  Italian,"  '  by  W.  Allston. 
We  have  heard  this  (save  the  mark !)  called  a  '  pretty  picture. 
We  do  not  think  it  is  so,  and  we  are  sure  that  the  unsuspecting 
artist  never  dreamed  that  it  would  be  so  considered.  If  high- 
wrought  delineation  of  character  ;  if  the  personification  of  the 
vilest  impulses  that  agitate  the  heart  and  distort  the  features  ; 
if  depravity  stamped  by  nature  on  every  trait,  and  nurtured  in 
deeds  of  violence  and  bloodshed  ;  if  the  contortions  produced  by 
a  terror-stricken  conscience,  in  every  limb  and  joint  and  sinew 
and  extremity,  from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  very  toenail,  as 
seen  in  the  faltering  figure  of  '  Spalatro ' ;  if  the  stern  unpitying 
fixedness  of  the  man  who  grasps  the  dagger,  and  points  the  way 
to  his  sleeping  victim  ;  if  the  midnight  gloom  of  a  dungeon, 
made  visible  by  the  glimmering  of  a  little  lamp,  with  its  associa- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


321 


tions  of  hopeless  suffering ;  if  all  these  brought  together  with  the 
matchless  skill  of  the  artist,  and  embodying  to  the  eye  what  had 
been  before  only  unveiled  to  the  imagination,  if  these  constitute 
mere  beauty,  then  indeed  might  we  pronounce  this  a  '  pretty 
picture.' 

"  But  we  apprehend  there  is  something  more  than  beauty  in 
it ;  a  charm  in  which  art  itself  is  hidden,  and  which  makes  us 
forget  the  pencil  in  its  creations.  No  painter  could  have  pro- 
duced such  a  picture  without  a  profound  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  without  being  able  to  trace  to  their  deepest  recesses  the 
springs  of  conduct,  and  without  a  philosophical  knowledge  of 
their  influence  on  the  actions  of  men.  In  a  word,  we  know  of 
no  picture  ever  painted  in  this  country  that  has  concentrated  in 
a  greater  degree  the  delight  and  admiration  of  the  intelligent. 
Its  execution  is  in  Mr.  Allston's  peculiar  style  of  high  finish ;  his 
maxim  is,  that  as  nature  is  nowhere  found  slovenly  and  negligent, 
the  art  that  professes  to  imitate  her  should  be  elaborate  in  its 
process,  and  never  fall  short  of  its  object  from  want  of  care.  We 
never  see,  therefore,  what  is  technically  called  handling  in  his 
pictures,  but  his  effect  (and  in  this  he  never  fails)  is  made  out 
by  study  and  diligence.  One  remark  more,  and  that  is  the  magic 
effect  of  the  lamp,  which  seems  to  flicker  before  the  eye.  The 
lights  on  the  figures  and  surrounding  objects  neither  take  from 
its  brilliance  nor  lose  any  of  their  own  distinctness." 

To  Cogdell,  September  26,  1842,  Allston  writes : 

"  My  Dear  Cogdell  :  I  have  this  day  received  your  letter  of 

the  20th  inst.,  and  thinking  you  might  wish  an  immediate  answer 

to  your  question,  1  Whether  I  had  surrendered  to  my  brother, 

William  M.  Allston,  my  part  of  my  late  sister's  portion  of  the 

inheritance  from  our  grandmother,  which  she  had  destined  for 

my  brother  and  myself,'  I  lose  no  time  in  replying  that  I  had. 

Soon  after  the  death  of  my  mother,  my  sister  wrote  to  me  partic- 
21 


322 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


ularly  concerning  the  inheritance  referred  to,  and  expressed  her 
intention  to  divide  her  portion  of  it  between  my  brother  and  my- 
self. In  my  answer  to  this  letter,  after  thanking  her  for  this 
generous  proffer,  I  declined  accepting  any  part  of  it,  and  begged 
her  to  give  all  she  intended  for  me  to  William,  as  he  had  children 
and  I  had  none,  besides,  that  I  had  a  profession,  whilst  he  was 
without  one.  I  wrote  you  also  to  this  effect,  so  that  your  im- 
pression respecting  it  is  correct. 

"  As  to  strangers  meddling  with  your  private  concerns,  that 
is  a  penalty  which  every  man  at  all  known  to  the  public  must 
inevitably  incur.  I  not  only  hear,  but  am  doomed  to  read, 
accounts,  both  of  what  I  have  done  and  am  doing,  as  new  to  me 
as  they  would  be  to  my  antipodes.  And  nothing  is  more  com- 
mon than  to  hear  opinions  ascribed  to  me  which  I  never  expressed, 
and  could  not  entertain.  Indeed  I  have  had  so  much  of  this 
kind  of  gossip  circulated  about  me  that  I  have  become  quite 
callous  about  it,  giving  it  no  heed,  especially  as  I  ascribe  it  rather 
to  idleness  than  ill-nature.  I  sometimes  say  to  my  friends  that 
if  I  wanted  to  learn  what  I  was  going  to  do  next,  I  had  only  to 
ask  the  first  stranger  I  should  meet. 

"  I  have  at  last,  in  my  old  age,  got  into  a  house  of  my  own, 
built  from  the  proceeds  from  the  sale  of  land  which  but  a  few 
years  ago  rented  for  no  more  than  $250.  Having  the  control 
over  the  design,  the  house  was  constructed  not  only  according  to 
my  notions  of  convenience  and  comfort,  but  in  some  degree  to 
suit  my  taste.  It  is  somewhat  in  a  different  style  from  our 
dwelling-houses  here,  and  I  should  not  have  been  surprised  if 
much  fault  had  been  found  with  it  by  others  ;  but  people  seem 
to  be  generally  pleased  with  it.  At  any  rate  it  has  one  great  ad- 
vantage, it  is  but  fifty  feet  from  my  present  painting-room. 

"  Mrs.  Allston  joins  me  in  best  regards  to  Mrs.  Cogdell  and 
yourself.  Ever  affectionately  yours, 

"Washington  Allston." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


323 


The  subjoined  letter,  dated  October  11,  1842,  to  Leslie,  was 
one  of  the  writer's  last  to  his  friends  oversea : 

"  Dear  Leslie  :  This  will  be  handed  you  by  my  friend  Mr. 
Albert  G.  Hoit,  whom  I  beg  to  introduce  to  you  as  one  whom  I 
highly  esteem  both  as  a  man  and  an  artist.  It  is  Mr.  Hoit's 
intention  to  visit  France  and  Italy  as  well  as  England.  But  his 
time  abroad  being  necessarily  limited,  his  stay  in  London  will  of 
course  be  short.  If  you  will  favor  him  with  such  facilities  as 
may  be  in  your  power  for  seeing  various  works  of  art  in  London, 
especially  such  as  are  not  open  to  the  public,  you  will  much 
oblige  an  old  friend. 

"  Mr.  Hoit  having  obligingly  offered  to  be  the  bearer,  I  take 
this  opportunity  to  send  you  a  volume  which  I  published  last 
year.  I  send  one  also  to  Collins,  and  one  to  Mr.  Green,  the 
Professor  of  Anatomy  to  the  Royal  Academy.  I  knew  Mr. 
Green  when  in  London,  and  I  show  him  this  mark  of  respect  as 
the  friend  of  Coleridge,  and  as  one  whom  I  know  Coleridge  to 
have  held  in  high  estimation.  In  an  eloquent  work  of  Mr. 
Green,  1  The  Hunterian  Oration,'  which  I  have  lately  read,  I 
think  (but  am  not  certain)  that  F.R.S.  was  affixed  to  his  name 
in  the  title-page.  If  so,  will  you  add  these  letters  where  I  have 
written  it,  on  the  blank-leaf  of  my  book. 

11 1  was  very  ill,  so  as  to  be  confined  to  my  chamber,  the 
greater  part  of  last  winter,  and  continued  very  feeble  throughout 
the  spring  and  summer ;  but,  thank  Heaven,  I  have  now  regained 
sufficient  strength  to  proceed  in  good  heart  with  my  labors.  I 
would  tell  you  more  about  myself,  but  that  Mr.  Hoit,  to  whom 
I  shall  leave  it,  will  be  able  to  say  more  for  me  than  I  could  put 
into  a  letter.  Do  not,  however,  follow  my  example  when  you 
shall  feel  inclined  to  write  to  me,  but  tell  me  all  about  yourself, 
the  more  minutely  the  better,  and  all  about  your  wife  and  chil- 
dren, to  whom,  though  I  have  never  seen,  yet,  as  parts  of  your- 


324 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


self,  I  must  send  my  regards.  To  Collins  remember  me  most 
affectionately.  Though  a  poor  correspondent,  or  rather,  no  cor- 
respondent, I  am  not,  therefore,  forgetful  of  my  friends.  You 
would  hardly  believe  it,  but  it  is  a  melancholy  fact  that  I  write 
hundreds  of  letters  to  strangers,  persons  whom  I  never  saw. 
And  why  ?  Because  their  letters  must  be  answered,  else  I  have 
no  peace  with  a  gentleman's  conscience  !  You  will  think,  per- 
haps, that  I  fully  console  myself  for  this  infliction  by  deducting 
what  I  owe  to  my  friends.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  believe  they  all 
understand  me,  and  do  not  measure  my  regard  by  the  length  or 
frequency  of  my  letters. 

"  I  remain,  dear  Leslie,  your  unaltered  friend, 

"  Washington  Allston." 

As  connected  with  the  foregoing,  it  is  perhaps  worth  while 
to  give  this  extract  from  a  letter  from  Hoit  to  Allston,  dated 
London,  November  14,  1842  : 

"  Samuel  Bogers  seemed  gratified  to  hear  from  you,  and  said 
it  gave  him  pleasure  to  show  his  collection  to  any  friend  of 
yours  ;  and  he  went  with  me  from  basement  to  attic,  pointing 
out  to  me  every  picture  and  object  of  virtu  with  all  the  activity 
and  enthusiasm  of  the  first  love  of  art  in  a  boy.  ...  I 
agree  with  you  in  your  high  estimate  of  Stoddard.  After  seeing 
Bogers's  Titian,  '  Christ  and  Mary  in  the  Garden,'  I  perceive  now, 
more  than  ever,  how  perfectly  you  have  been  imbued  with  the 
spirit  of  the  masters  of  that  age,  and  how  little  of  it  there  is  in 
the  present  English  school." 

Following  are  such  portions  of  two  of  his  latest  letters  to 
Cogdell,  to  whom  he  always  wrote  very  intimately,  as  are  of  pub- 
lic interest  : 

"  Cambridgeport,  April  15,  1843. 
"  My  Dear  Cogdell  :    .    .    .    Greenough,  as  I  take  it  for 
granted  you  know  through  the  newspapers,  has  long  been  re- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


325 


turned  to  this  country.  He  is  still  in  Washington,  seeing,  I 
suppose,  to  the  erecting  of  a  new  building  for  the  proper  exhibi- 
tion of  his  statue.  I  hear  he  was  absolutely  startled  at  the  ap- 
pearance it  made  in  the  Eotunda ;  the  shadows  falling  so  per- 
pendicularly as  almost  to  obliterate  the  features,  and  otherwise 
misrepresent  the  whole  figure.  I  hope  the  new  building  to 
which  it  is  to  be  removed,  and  which  will  probably  be  erected 
under  his  superintendence,  Avill  be  such  as  to  do  it  justice,  as  it 
is  a  work,  according  to  the  testimony  of  several  competent 
judges  who  saw  it  in  Florence,  that  undoubtedly  does  him  honor. 
When  he  intends  returning  to  Italy  I  know  not.  He  being  out 
of  the  question,  there  are  only  two  persons  left  to  whom  I  can 
give  letters,  Clevenger  and  Kellogg,  who  are  both  now  in  Flor- 
ence. I  am  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  Powers  to  add  a 
letter  to  him,  but  Clevenger's  introduction  to  him  will  serve  you 
quite  as  well.  Clevenger's  marble  bust  of  me,  which  he  made 
for  the  Athenaeum,  so  far  surpasses  the  cast  that,  without  im- 
pairing a  jot  of  the  likeness,  you  would  hardly  know  it  to  have 
been  done  from  it ;  it  is  an  exquisite  work. 

"  As  the  time  draws  near  for  your  voyage,  I  suppose  your 
enthusiasm  must  be  pretty  near  boiling-heat.  Ah,  my  friend, 
that  is  the  true  country  for  art,  and  it  is  a  proud  thing  for 
America  that  in  art  she  is  now  so  well  represented  there. 

"  Ever  affectionately  your  friend, 

"Washington  Allston." 

"  Cambridgeport,  June  29,  1843. 

"  My  Dear  Cogdell  : 

"  You  ask  if  I  think  your  visit  to  Italy  will  have  the  same 
effect  on  you  now,  as  I  formerly  supposed  it  would.  I  see  no 
reason  for  changing  my  opinion ;  for,  though  some  ten  years 
have  been  added  to  your  age,  you  are  by  no  means  beyond  the 
age  to  feel  the  influences  of  a  happier  and  more  congenial  em- 


326 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


ployment,  and  a  finer  climate ;  you  will  profit  by  them,  I  doubt 
not,  both  in  body  and  mind.  I  have  no  doubt,  were  all  circum- 
stances propitious  to  my  revisiting  Italy,  that  the  change  of 
scene  as  well  as  the  climate  would  add  vigor  also  to  me,  could 
I  bear  the  voyage,  which  I  could  not,  as  the  motion  of  the  ves- 
sel would  soon  increase  the  chronic  complaint  which  has  so  long 
afflicted  me  to  a  degree  of  torture. 

"As  I  have  never  been  in  correspondence  with  Thorwald- 
sen,  I  could  not  with  any  propriety  write  an  introductory  letter 
to  him  ;  but  I  am  happy  in  being  able  to  procure  you  letters  to 
our  consul,  Mr.  Green,  and  to  Crawford,  the  sculptor,  from  a 
friend  of  mine  in  Boston,  who  is  an  intimate  friend  of  both 
those  gentlemen,  either  of  whom  will  make  you  acquainted  with 
Thorwaldsen,  as  they  are  both  well  known  to  him. 

"  Poor  Legare  !  You  must,  no  doubt,  as  well  as  myself,  have 
been  deeply  affected  by  the  news  of  his  sudden  death.  One  of 
the  highest  intellects  and  the  most  noble-hearted  statesmen  has 
been  lost  to  his  country.  The  death  of  no  public  man  for  many 
years  has  been  so  universally  lamented  ;  even  his  political  oppo- 
nents seem  to  have  forgotten  their  party  feelings  in  the  general 
sorrow.  Judge  Story  pronounces  him  one  of  the  most  learned 
jurists  of  his  time.  And  certainly  he  has  not  left  a  more  accom- 
plished scholar  behind  him.  He  had  many  and  thorough 
friends  here,  in  whom  his  high  principle,  no  less  than  his  ex- 
tensive attainments,  had  won  a  confidence  that  connected  him 
with  the  future  welfare  and  honor  of  our  country.  But  if  he  has 
been  taken  away  from  the  hope  of  his  friends,  and  in  the  midst 
of  his  usefulness,  it  is  no  slight  consolation  to  them  that  he  was 
cut  off  also  in  the  flower  of  his  integrity.  He  has  left  a  great 
name ;  but  what  is  far  better  in  his  case,  a  good  name. 

"  Mrs.  Allston  joins  me  in  best  regards  to  yourself  and  Mrs. 
C.  Believe  me,  ever  affectionately  yours, 

"  Washington  Allston." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


327 


The  last  letter  Allston  wrote  was  to  Mrs.  Charming,  the 
widow  of  William  Ellery  Charming,  and  most  of  it  is  given 
herewith : 

"  Cambridgeport,  July  4,  1843. 
•  ••••••• 

"  I  never  could  write  a  letter  at  the  time  it  ought  to  have 
been  written  ;  and  this  answer  to  yours,  I  fear,  forms  no  excep- 
tion. In  addition,  however,  to  the  exhaustion  caused  by  the  ex- 
cessive heat  of  the  weather,  I  may  plead,  as  some  excuse,  that  I 
have  been  troubled  of  late  by  a  wearing,  dull  pain  in  my  side, 
which  makes  writing  more  than  usually  fatiguing  to  me ;  occa- 
sionally it  becomes  very  acute,  so  much  so  indeed  as  to  force 
me,  while  painting,  to  suspend  my  labors  until  the  paroxysm  is 
past. 

"  With  respect  to  the  portrait  I  had  promised,*  my  neces- 
sities compel  me  to  say  that  it  will  be  wholly  out  of  my  power 
to  undertake  it  with  any  hope  of  success  until  I  shall  have  com- 
pleted '  Belshazzar.'  My  friends,  I  have  reason  to  think,  are  not 
aware  how  much  depends  on  this  work,  which  has  so  long  and 
anxiously  employed  me,  and  which  has  so  often  been  suspended, 
but  never  voluntarily.  But,  I  trust,  you  will  understand  it, 
when  I  add  (to  say  nothing  of  present  embarrassments)  that  to 
this  source  alone  can  I  look  for  the  means  of  discharging  obliga- 
tions that  have  weighed  upon  me  for  years.  Besides,  there  is 
that  involved  in  the  undelayed  termination  of  this  picture  which 
is  far  more  important  to  me  than  any  pecuniary  consideration. 
Until  relieved  of  this  burden  I  feel  (and  indeed  know  too  well 
from  bitter  experience)  that  no  attempt  I  might  make,  as  to  the 
portrait,  could  be  successful.  It  is  not  with  me  now  as  in  former 
days — when  the  original  was  painted — when  I  was  young  and  in 
health,  and  with  nothing  extrinsic  to  overshadow  my  Art.  For 
the  last  two  years  a  succession  of  bodily  complaints  have  griev- 

*  The  unfinished  portrait  of  Dr.  C.  in  possession  of  his  widow. 


328 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


ously  impeded  the  progress  of  the  picture  referred  to,  and  the 
still  feeble  state  of  my  health  warns  me  that  another  suspension 
may  be  fatal  to  it  forever.  But  once  freed  of  this  importunate, 
heavy  load,  I  shall  be,  I  trust,  another  man,  and  enabled  to 
bring  to  this  labor  of  love,  fresh  and  unembarrassed,  whatever 
powers  I  possess. 

"  I  have  made  this  frank  statement,  my  dear  Mrs.  Channing, 
as  what  I  owe  both  to  you  and  myself ;  to  your  kind  and  gener- 
ous nature,  and  to  my  honor  and  right  feeling,  for  I  know  not 
what  would  distress  me  more,  than  that  any  misapprehended 
circumstance  should  lead  you  to  doubt  my  inclination  to  fulfil 
my  promise." 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 


DEATH  OF  ALLSTON. — HIS  SUDDEN  AND  PAINLESS  PASSING  AWAY. — 
ACCOUNT  OF  K.  H.  DANA,  JK. 

The  death  of  Allston  was  almost  an  unfelt  transition,  so  mer- 
cifully tempered  was  it  to  his  delicate  physical  condition.  Mem- 
bers of  Mrs.  Allston's  family  had  dined  and  passed  the  evening 
with  him.  At  seven  o'clock  of  July  9,  1843,  he  had  entered  the 
house  from  his  painting-room,  where  he  had  been  hard  at  work 
on  "  Belshazzar."  To  reach  the  elevation  of  the  soothsayer's 
face,  on  which  he  had  been  working,  it  had  been  necessary  for 
him  to  ascend  a  ladder.  The  continual  ascending  and  descend- 
ing, to  paint  and  see  the  effect  of  his  work,  would  have  been 
wearying  to  a  strong  man ;  to  him  it  was  extremely  exhausting. 
He  was  evidently  fatigued  when  he  entered  the  house  and 
greeted  his  guests,  but  after  the  refreshment  of  dinner  he  wore 
his  usual  animation,  which  imparted  its  wonted  delightful  and 
inspiring  influence  to  all  present.  There  was  a  refreshing  inter- 
est in  his  manner  that  cannot  be  described.  A  kind  of  individ- 
ualization, making  each  one  feel  that  he  was  an  object  of  special 
regard  and  attention  ;  the  gushing  stream  of  kindliness  from  his 
heart  reached,  satisfied,  and  charraed  everyone  about  him.  This 
evidence  of  gentlemanly  refinement  singularly  distinguished  All- 
ston. In  separating  for  the  night,  even  to  those  whom  he  was 
to  see  the  next  morning,  he  would  make  the  most  courteous  ac- 
knowledgment for  the  pleasure  he  had  derived  from  their  society. 

His  last  words  to  the  retiring  guests  on  that  night  of  his 
departure  were  to  his  niece,  Miss  Charlotte  Dana,  whom  he 


330 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


regarded  with  the  affection  of  a  father.  They  were  words  coun- 
selling intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  development  unto  per- 
fection. And  they  were  accompanied  with  his  last  benediction, 
"  God  bless  you,  my  child,"  and  sealed  with  a  kiss  upon  her 
forehead. 

Soon  after  he  said  to  his  wife,  "I  have  a  slight  attack  of  indi- 
gestion, I  think  I  had  better  take  a  little  soda."  While  she  was 
preparing  it,  he  sat  at  the  table  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  with 
his  head  resting  on  his  hand  as  if  in  thought,  she  turned  to 
speak  to  him,  he  did  not  answer ;  she,  supposing  him  to  have 
fallen  asleep,  touched  his  hand  ;  it  fell  limp.  Thinking  he  had 
fainted,  she  called  aloud.  Her  sister  and  niece,  who  had  just 
retired,  hastened  to  her  assistance.  They  laid  him  upon  the  rug 
in  front  of  the  fireplace,  and  chafed  his  body,  hoping  to  revive 
him.  The  doctor  had  been  called.  He  came,  felt  his  pulse,  and 
said,  "  He  is  gone."  His  wife's  first  thought  was  true,  he  had 
fallen  asleep. 

Beautifully  impressive  are  the  words  of  the  diary  of  K.  H. 
Dana,  Jr.,  which  we  quote : 

"  I  was  awakened  by  the  ringing  of  the  door-bell  on  Sunday 
morning  at  two  o'clock.  In  answer  to  my  inquiry,  I  was  told 
that  I  was  needed  at  Cambridgeport  immediately,  that  Mr. 
Allston  was  dead.  It  went  to  my  heart  like  a  clap  of  thunder. 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  was  confused  upon  an  alarm,  I 
could  hardly  breathe.  I  was  soon  dressed  and  in  the  street. 
The  night  air  was  chilly  and  the  streets  were  as  still  as  death. 
The  man  had  been  to  call  Ned  at  Chestnut  Street,  and  we 
waited  for  him.  In  a  moment  we  heard  the  fall  of  footsteps, 
and  Ned  came  up  to  us.  We  got  into  the  chaise  and  rode  out, 
with  hardly  a  word  spoken.  We  reached  the  house.  I  saw  a 
light  in  the  back  room  where  he  always  sat,  but  none  upstairs. 
Where  can  he  be  ?  Where  did  he  die  ?  We  opened  the  door. 
Aunt  Betsey  met  us  in  the  entry  and  said  a  few  words.    He  was 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


331 


in  the  back  room.  I  went  to  the  door  and  just  saw  his  body 
lying  on  the  rug  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  Aunt  S.  and  Ned  by  his 
side.  I  could  not  for  my  life  have  gone  up  to  the  body.  I  went 
to  the  other  end  of  the  room  and  looked  out  of  the  window.  I 
moved  to  the  other  window,  but  could  not  go  up  to  it.  Never 
did  I  force  myself  more  than  when  I  moved  gradually  and  fear- 
fully up  to  it.  And  there  he  lay.  Excepting  that  his  necker- 
chief had  been  removed  he  was  dressed  as  usual,  his  gray  and 
white  curls  lay  about  his  forehead  and  shoulders,  and  his  sub- 
lime countenance,  with  closed  eyes,  was  turned  upward.  His 
candles  were  burning  upon  the  table ;  by  the  side  of  them  lay 
his  spectacles ;  the  remnant  of  his  last  cigar  was  upon  the  corner 
of  the  mantelpiece,  where  he  always  placed  it ;  another,  un- 
touched, which  he  had  taken  out  to  use  next,  lay  near  it ;  a 
small  plate,  as  usual,  held  the  ashes  of  his  cigar,  and  a  few 
books,  but  none  of  them,  however,  open,  lay  upon  the  table  and 
mantelpiece.    Mrs.  Allston  had  been  taken  upstairs. 

"  The  day  was  now  broken  and  there  were  the  first  twittering 
of  birds  and  the  sound  of  returning  motion  in  the  world.  No 
rising  sun  was  to  awaken  him  from  his  rest,  his  spirit  was  in  an 
eternal  day  to  which  no  night  cometh.  The  light  being  fully 
returned  we  could  contemplate  his  sublime  countenance.  There 
was  the  highest  grandeur  of  intellect,  with  the  purity  and  peace- 
fulness  of  one  in  the  world,  but  not  of  the  world. 

"  One  could  not  but  feel  the  absence  of  any  signs  of  force  in 
his  intellect.  It  was  rising,  soaring,  from  one  elevation  to  one 
higher,  and  especially  into  infinite  space.  There  was  no  exercise 
of  force  against  other  intellects,  no  combat ;  no  strife  for  mas- 
tery, which  gives  vigor  and  development  to  most  minds,  but 
which,  compared  with  the  growth  of  his  intelligence,  is  like  the 
shooting  out  of  rays  in  horizontal  lines  compared  with  the  rising 
upward,  upward  to  the  source  of  all  light.  Truth  and  beauty  for 
the  glory  of  God  and  the  elevation  of  man  were  the  great  object 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


for  which  his  powers  had  been  given  him,  and  these  he  pursued 
without  compulsion  or  conflict. 

"  At  about  eight  o'clock  I  went  over  to  announce  the  event 
to  Uncle  Edmund.  He  was  in  bed.  I  told  it  to  him  in  a  few 
words.  He  said  nothing  for  some  time,  but  lay  with  his  eyes 
closed.  At  length  he  said,  '  It  is  too  horrible  ! '  and  after  some 
time  he  repeated,  '  It  is  too  horrible  ! '  I  sat  by  his  side  and  he 
said,  'I  should  like  to  have  you  come  to  see  me  to-morrow.' 
Upon  this  I  left  him. 

"  At  about  nine  I  went  up  to  Cambridge  to  announce  the 
death  to  father.  He  was  visiting  at  Professor  Channing's.  I 
sent  for  the  Professor,  but  he  was  at  breakfast  and  did  not  come. 
I  had  to  send  again,  and  Cousin  Harriette  came,  and  this  made 
a  confusion,  and  father  seemed  to  suspect  that  something  was 
wrong,  so  we  told  him  at  once.  '  Mr.  Allston  is  dead !  He  died 
last  night.'  ' What  does  this  mean ?  How?  When?  What  is 
all  this  ?  What  does  this  mean  ?  '  I  said  again,  '  Pray  be  calm. 
He  has  gone  peacefully  and  quietly ;  if  you  had  been  there  you 
would  not  feel  so.'  Gracefully,  like  the  clearing  away  of  a  mist 
or  the  rising  of  a  curtain,  his  mental  expression  returned  to  his 
eye ;  the  cloud  passed  off,  and  the  momentary  aberration,  for 
such  it  was,  ceased.  I  then  told  him  of  all  the  consoling  things, 
and  among  others  mentioned  that  Aunt  Martha  was  wonderfully 
calm,  and  seemed  to  have  had  a  supernatural  strength  given  her. 
This  calmed  father  more  than  anything  else  had  done.  4  If 
Martha  is  only  sustained,  I  have  no  fear ;  I  feared  her  nervous 
and  frail  nature.'  Being  assured  on  this  point  he  became  more 
composed.  I  then  told  him  that  my  Aunts  had  feared  the  effect 
of  this  upon  him,  but  that  I  had  told  them  I  knew  that  father  had 
been  predicting  his  dissolution,  and  I  supposed  he  would  not  be 
surprised  at  any  time  to  hear  of  his  death.  But  far  different  was 
the  effect.  Father  came  toward  me,  and  I  went  up  to  embrace 
him,  but  he  clutched  my  hand  convulsively  and  said  not  a  word. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


333 


I  led  him  to  a  chair.    I  sat  down  before  him.    He  looked  upon 
me,  but  his  eye  was  that  of  one  whose  mind  had  been  over- 
thrown.   It  was  not  fancy  in  me,  I  could  not  be  deceived  in  it. 
I  placed  my  hands  upon  his  shoulders  as  I  would  upon  those  of 
a  child  or  an  insane  person,  and  told  him  to  be  calm.    He  heard 
me  not,  for  his  mind  had  no  perception  at  the  time.    My  blood 
returned  to  my  heart,  my  limbs  were  cold,  I  could  not  speak,  for 
I  looked  into  his  eye  again  and  again  and  there  was  no  change, 
and  I  thought  I  had  crazed  him.    At  length  he  said,  in  a  broken, 
incoherent  manner,  '  How  is  this  ?  '    I  said  I  had  told  them  if  it 
had  been  some  embarrassment  or  trouble  of  worldly  or  pecuni- 
ary matters  it  would  make  him  ill,  but  that  so  great  a  thing  as 
this  he  could  stand  up  against.    This  hit  his  feelings  where  I 
meant  it  should,  and  he  said  that  was  just  the  case  with  him, 
and  added :  1  Oh,  I  have  had  my  mind  too  much  fixed  of  late 
upon  death,  eternity,  and  the  spiritual  world,  to  be  distressed  by 
the  fact  of  his  death.'    We  then  talked  of  the  blessing — things 
attending  his  death.    He  had  escaped  that  terrible  vision — the 
nightmare,  the  incubus,  the  tormentor  of  his  life — his  unfinished 
picture." 

The  above  unstudied  and  pathetic  record  prepares  us  for  the 
singularly  impressive  character  of  the  funeral.  It  was  so  timed 
as  to  meet  the  setting  sun  in  its  approach  to  the  place  of  burial 
in  Cambridge.  Arrived  at  the  churchyard,  students  of  Harvard 
— Allston's  Alma  Mater — appeared  bearing  torches.  Overshad- 
owing clouds  rendered  their  light  needful.  But  soon  the  clouds 
opened,  as  if  to  let  inhabitants  of  other  spheres  contemplate  the 
scene.  The  moon  and  stars  looked  down  with  consecrating  light 
as  the  service  for  the  burial  of  the  dead  was  voiced  in  solemn 
tones. 


CHAPTEE  XXYII. 


FIRST  INSPECTION  OF  "  BELSHAZZAE." — TECHNICAL  ACCOUNT  OF  IT 
BY  JOHN  GREENOUGH. — ATTEMPTS  AT  RESTORATION.  —  TRAGIC 
INFLUENCE  OF  THE  WORK  ON  ALLSTON's  LIFE. — ITS  PRESENT 
POSITION. 

Immediately  upon  the  entombment  of  his  body  public  inter- 
est turned  to  the  unseen,  yet  famous,  "  Belshazzar."  Mr.  Dana, 
with  his  son  Richard,  Mr.  Edmund  T.  Dana,  with  his  son  Ed- 
mund, and  Mr.  John  Greenough,  on  the  12th  of  July  entered  the 
painting-room.  The  secret  of  many  years'  thought  and  labor 
was  opened,  and  the  great  work  of  Allston's  life  revealed.  They 
who  first  saw  it  were  a  committee  appointed  not  by  any  special 
authority  so  much  as  by  a  sense  of  fitness  because  of  their  sym- 
pathies and  familiarity  with  the  deceased.  Interest  was  mingled 
with  sadness  at  the  condition  of  the  great  picture.  The  King 
had  been  finished,  and  Allston  had  expressed  himself  satisfied 
with  his  success ;  but  now  his  entire  figure  is  covered  and  blotted 
out  with  a  coat  of  dark  brown  paint.  Upon  seeing  this  the 
elder  Dana  remarked,  "  That  is  his  shroud."  But  we  must  not 
attempt,  by  describing  "  Belshazzar  "  as  it  then  appeared,  to  go 
over  ground  so  well  covered  by  others.  Among  Mr.  Dana's 
"  Notes,"  we  find  two  descriptions  of  the  picture,  written  after 
Allston's  death.  The  first  is  technical,  given  by  Mr.  John 
Greenough,  the  second  is  extremely  poetic,  but  without  signa- 
ture. We  regret  that  we  have  no  clue  to  its  authorship.  Both 
are  true  to  the  subject  and  very  interesting.  Greenough's  is  as 
follows  : 

"  Belshazzar  is  here  treated  in  strict  accordance  with  the  ac- 


Be  Is  bazar's  Feast. 

From  the  original  study  for  the  large  untinished  picture  in  the  Boston 

Museum  of  Art.  / 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


335 


count  in  Daniel,  chapter  v.  The  scene  is  laid  in  the  King's 
palace,  where  1  Belshazzar  made  a  great  feast  to  a  thousand  of  his 
lords.'  Belshazzar  is  seated  upon  his  throne,  in  the  foreground, 
on  the  left,  near  him,  stands  the  Queen,  supported  by  two  Egyp- 
tian female  slaves.  The  prophet  Daniel,  stands  nearly  in  the 
centre  of  the  foreground,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  King,  and  with 
his  left  hand  pointing  to  the  handwriting  upon  the  wall,  while 
he  interprets  the  meaning  of  the  mysterious  words.  The  four 
figures  on  the  right  are  the  astrologers,  Chaldeans,  and  sooth- 
sayers, who  were  4  unable  to  read  the  writing  or  interpret  the 
meaning  thereof.' 

"  The  King  has  called  for  them  and  they  have  been  brought 
into  his  presence.  All  have  attempted,  and  all  have  failed  to 
read  the  writing,  or  to  show  the  interpretation  thereof.  Upon 
this  the  Queen,  to  whom  word  h  s  come,  has  appeared  in  the 
hall  and  counselled  the  sending  for  Daniel,  and  he  has  been 
called.  The  King  has  addressed  him  and  he  has  answered,  set- 
ting before  him  the  degradation,  restoration,  and  piety  of  the 
King  his  father,  and  his  own  apostasy ;  and  now,  pointing  to- 
ward the  handwriting,  he  reads  the  words  and  shows  the  inter- 
pretation. All  eyes  but  those  of  the  Queen  are  turned  from  the 
supernatural  writing  to  the  Prophet,  who  is  revealing  the  judg- 
ment. 

"  Keceding  a  little  from  the  immediate  foreground  is  a  group 
in  shadow,  their  physiognomy  and  devout  attitudes  mark  them 
to  be  Jews.  They  seem  to  be  elevated  by  a  consciousness  of 
the  truth  of  their  religion,  and  deeply  impressed  with  the  trium- 
phant display  of  the  power  of  the  true  God.  One  of  the  females 
kneels  in  an  attitude  of  reverence  or  prayer,  while  another 
reaches  forward  to  touch  the  garment  of  the  Prophet.  Behind 
these,  and  forming  a  part  of  the  same  group,  a  youth  of  the  Cop- 
tic race,  in  military  habiliments,  points  to  the  vessels  of  gold  and 
silver  which  were  taken  from  the  Jewish  Temple  by  Nebuchad- 


336 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


nezzar,  the  predecessor  of  Belshazzar,  and  were  ordered  by  Bel- 
shazzar  to  be  brought  to  his  feast  '  to  serve  wine  to  his  lords  and 
princes,  their  wives  and  concubines.' 

"  The  middle  distance  is  occupied  by  the  banque ting-table, 
which,  crowded  with  guests  and  laden  with  the  holy  vessels,  is 
seen  between  the  figures  in  the  foreground.  Large  columns  of 
porphyry,  of  barbaric  order  of  architecture,  support  a  gallery 
filled  with  spectators  in  attitudes  of  wonder  and  excitement.  At 
the  head  of  nine  steps,  under  a  large  central  light,  is  a  colossal 
golden  figure  of  Belas.  The  extreme  distance  shows  an  immense 
flight  of  steps  with  persons  rushing  up  and  down.  As  this  pict- 
ure is  exhibited  in  an  unfinished  state,  a  few  remarks  in  rela- 
tion to  its  condition  become  necessary.  It  is  known  that  Mr. 
Allston  considered  it  virtually  finished  some  fifteen  or  twenty 
years  ago.  He  afterward,  however,  thought  that  by  a  change 
in  the  perspective  the  effect  of  the  whole  would  be  greatly  im- 
proved. This  change  involved  material  alterations  in  nearly  all 
the  main  figures  of  the  picture  then  finished.  After  a  consulta- 
tion with  Mr.  Stuart  the  painter,  he  decided  to  undertake  the 
labor,  and,  with  this  end  in  view,  wrought  upon  the  picture  at 
intervals,  carrying  out  his  new  design,  but  died  before  its  com- 
pletion. 

"  The  picture  now  shows  this  later  new  design,  in  some  parts 
perfected,  in  others  commenced,  while  some  portions  remain 
precisely  as  they  were  before.  A  few  outlines  in  chalk,  made 
by  Mr.  Allston's  hand  over  these  latter  portions,  indicate  that 
but  trifling  alterations  were  thought  necessary  to  make  them 
agree  with  the  new  design.  It  was  found  necessary  to  remove 
these  outlines  previous  to  varnishing  the  picture,  but  an  accurate 
minute  of  them  has  been  made. 

"  The  alteration  in  the  perspective  required  the  size  of  the 
principal  figures  to  be  enlarged.  This  is  particularly  evident  in 
the  group  of  magicians,  where  new  heads  have  been  commenced 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


337 


on  an  enlarged  scale,  and  the  height  of  the  figures  is  increased  by 
half  a  head.  A  portion  of  one  of  the  former  heads  is  still  to  be 
seen  under  the  chin  of  one  of  the  new  ones.  The  necks  and 
shoulders  remain  the  same  as  in  the  old  design,  though  it  is  easy 
to  trace  the  lines  which  were  to  have  formed  the  shoulders  to 
correspond  with  the  last  painted  heads.  The  outline  painted  in 
oil-colors  over  the  drapery  of  the  principal  figure  of  this  group 
shows  that  having  changed  the  height  of  this  magician,  Mr.  All- 
ston  thought  it  necessary  to  paint  the  whole  of  the  drapery  anew, 
in  order  that  every  fold  of  the  garment  should  be  strictly  true  to 
the  anatomy  of  the  figure.  The  heads  are  unfinished,  and  proba- 
bly are  advanced  very  little  beyond  dead  color.  Near  this  group 
are  to  be  seen  the  remains  of  two  heads,  which  have  the  appear- 
ance of  having  at  one  time  been  finished,  but  afterward  pumiced 
away  to  prepare  a  ground  for  raising  the  shoulders  of  the  figure 
below.  There  are  no  means  of  judging  whether  Mr.  Allston  in- 
tended to  dispense  with  these  heads  in  his  new  composition,  or 
whether  they  were  to  bo  repainted  in  different  proportions. 

"  1  Belshazzar,'  ifc  will  be  seen  by  a  glance,  is  now  very  far  from 
perfect.  It  is,  in  fact,  only  the  ghost  of  the  figure  which  was 
once  entirely  finished,  and  afterward  by  his  own  hand  pumiced 
down  and  covered  with  a  solid  coat  of  paint  on  which  to  paint  a 
new  figure  on  a  larger  scale.  The  left  foot  remains  precisely  as 
it  was  finished  for  the  first  figure.  The  right  hand  is  evidently 
a  new  one,  begun  on  a  large  scale  to  correspond  with  the  in- 
tended proportions  of  the  figure.  It  wants  the  glazing  and  fin- 
ishing touches.  As  this  figure  was  found,  there  was  a  perfect 
blank  in  the  picture  where  the  figure  of  Belshazzar  was  at  one 
time  seated  on  his  throne  entirely  finished.  The  effect  of  the 
whole  composition  was  marred  not  only  by  the  want  of  one  of  the 
principal  figures,  but  from  the  discord  occasioned  by  this  large 
spot  of  paint,  which  was  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  the  rest  of 
the  picture. 

22 


338 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


"  Those  who  were  intrusted  with  the  picture  deliberated  and 
debated  a  long  time  on  the  expediency  of  removing  the  covering 
from  this  important  figure.  They  feared  that  Mr.  Allston,  pre- 
viously to  painting  it  out,  must  have  nearly  obliterated  it  to  form 
a  proper  ground  for  the  new  figure.  On  the  other  hand,  they 
thought  it  desirable  to  obtain  even  such  a  remnant  of  this  im- 
portant element  of  the  design,  and  it  was  presumed  that  the  col- 
oring of  the  old  figure,  however  much  rubbed  down,  would  re- 
store in  some  measure  the  harmony  of  the  picture.  They  natu- 
rally felt  a  reluctance  to  tamper  with  anything  in  the  work  of  so 
great  an  artist ;  however,  the  consideration  that  they  were  about 
to  remove  a  covering  which  could  at  any  time  be  replaced  by  a 
common  hand,  and  that  its  removal  might  work  a  most  benefi- 
cial change,  at  length  determined  them.  The  coat  of  paint  has 
been  by  a  peculiar  process  carefully  taken  off  and  the  result  has 
been  as  anticipated.  The  figure  was  found  to  have  been  rubbed 
down  to  precisely  the  state  in  which  it  is  now  seen  ;  but  the  in- 
troduction of  the  color,  even  in  its  present  state,  at  once  threw 
light  and  brilliancy  into  other  parts  of  the  picture  in  a  manner 
scarcely  to  be  conceived  except  by  those  who  saw  it  in  its  pre- 
vious condition. 

"In  all  other  respects  the  picture  is  the  same  as  it  came 
from  Mr.  Allston's  hand.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  may  always 
remain  so.  However  much  we  may  regret  that  he  did  not  live 
to  complete  his  work,  it  is  very  certain  that  no  artist  who  has  the 
ability  to  appreciate  it  would  have  the  assurance  to  put  his  brush 
to  it.  It  is  a  consolation  to  reflect  that  to  artists  it  is  quite  as 
valuable  in  its  present  condition,  for  in  it  are  to  be  found  speci- 
mens of  Mr.  Allston's  methods  in  nearly  every  stage,  from  the 
beginning  to  the  completion  of  a  work,  as  they  will  be  able  to 
study  in  it  the  changes  in  the  artist's  manner  since  the  first  fin- 
ishing of  the  picture  as  well  as  the  last  process. 

"  The  figure  of  Daniel  seems  nearly  perfect,  with  the  excep- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


339 


tion  of  the  right  hand.  This  was  at  one  time  finished  in  accord- 
ance with  the  original  design  as  seen  in  the  colored  sketch.  It 
there  hangs  passive  by  his  side ;  but  Mr.  Stuart,  having  sug- 
gested to  Mr.  Allston  that  by  clenching  the  hand  more  anima- 
tion would  be  given  to  the  action,  he  began  the  alteration  but 
proceeded  no  further  than  the  dead  color  when  he  became  satis- 
fied of  the  superiority  of  his  own  conception,  and  mentioned  to 
several  of  his  friends  that  he  intended  to  restore  the  hand  as  it 
was  before.  Since  his  death,  one  of  these  friends  expressed  a 
desire  that  the  old  hand  might  be  restored  by  cleaning  off  the 
dead  color,  and  the  experiment  was  begun  by  uncovering  a  very 
small  portion ;  it  was  found,  however,  that  the  old  hand  was  so 
completely  effaced  before  painting  over  it  as  to  render  the  resto- 
ration hopeless.  The  new  hand  was  not  painted  precisely  over 
the  old  one,  and  the  attempt  was  abandoned. 

"  In  the  upper  part  of  the  picture,  on  the  right,  are  to  be  seen 
a  number  of  lines  laying  down  the  perspective  of  the  architec- 
ture. Some  confusion  here  arises  from  the  mixture  of  the  out- 
lines of  the  architecture  with  what  are  technically  termed  the 
working  lines.  They  show  that  an  alteration  in  this  part  was 
contemplated,  and  to  a  certain  degree  accomplished.  The  ex- 
treme comer  which  would  have  contained  the  writing  is  in  a  very 
unfinished  state.  The  old  painting  has  here  again  been  rubbed 
down,  and  the  picture  loses  much  of  its  intended  effect  for  the 
want  of  the  supernatural  light  which  was  to  have  proceeded  from 
this  spot  as  a  focus. 

"  It  only  remains  to  note  the  few  chalk  outlines  which  were 
necessarily  removed  before  varnishing : 

"1.  A  small  outline  around  the  toes  of  the  left  foot  of  the 
King,  showing  that  it  was  to  be  lengthened  a  little. 

"  2.  Another  depressing  the  heel  of  the  left  foot  of  Daniel,  a 
correction  which  probably  became  necessary  from  the  change  in 
the  perspective. 


340 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"3.  In  the  left  upper  comer  of  the  picture  there  is  a  green 
curtain,  which,  hanging  from  the  gallery,  nearly  covers  one  of  the 
pillars.  This  curtain  has  been  pumiced  down,  or  cleaned  nearly 
away  with  spirits.  Over  it  the  outlines  of  the  whole  of  the  pil- 
lar was  laid  down  in  chalk,  as  though  Mr.  Allston  intended  to 
represent  it  entire.  These  lines  were  drawn,  not  only  over  the 
curtain,  but  over  a  part  of  the  'golden  candlestick.'  It  is  a 
matter  of  conjecture  whether  this  candlestick  was  to  have  been 
repainted  in  different  proportion  or  form,  or  what  was  the  nature 
of  the  change  to  be  made.  It  could  hardly  have  been  his  inten- 
tion to  dispense  with  it  entirely,  since  in  the  account  given  in  the 
Scriptures  it  serves  to  fix  the  locality  of  the  handwriting,  which 
is  described  as  having  been  seen  '  over  against  the  golden  can- 
dlestick.'" 

Following  is  the  other  and  anonymous  account  alluded  to  : 
"  You  well  know  it  has  been  the  desire  of  my  life  to  behold 
the  '  great  picture,'  as  Mr.  Allston's  '  Belshazzar  '  was  called.  It 
was  a  hope  which  I  scarce  believed  would  ever  be  realized,  but 
it  has  been,  and  to-day,  under  circumstances  of  peculiar  interest, 
I  visited  it,  and  felt  a  solemn  awe  stealing  over  my  soul  as  I 
found  myself  standing  before  that  mighty  work.  A  hallowed 
presence  seemed  to  pervade  the  room  ;  it  was  as  if  the  spirit  of 
Allston,  in  his  calm  majesty,  stood  near,  and  by  silent  thought 
conveyed  the  instruction,  the  deep  and  mighty  meaning  he  there 
symbolized !  Under  hallowed  influences,  crowding  fast  on  mind 
and  heart,  did  I  first  behold  this  magnificent  production.  You 
wish  to  know  my  first  impressions — under  their  immediate  in- 
fluence, therefore,  I  write  you.  The  picture  is  unfinished ;  the 
heart,  the  mind,  the  imagination  of  the  artist  grew  with  his 
work,  and  he  could  not  be  satisfied,  in  the  advancing  state  of 
his  mental  and  moral  faculties,  with  that  which  did  not  fully 
develop  and  do  justice  to  the  feelings  and  passions  he  would 
delineate,  and  which  with  every  year's  life  he  more  fully  un- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


341 


derstood,  as  every  Christian  does,  who,  studying  his  own  heart 
learns  equally  to  read  the  hearts  of  others. 

"  There  is  an  overwhelming  power  in  every  part  of  this  glori- 
ous work.  Belshazzar,  who  is  the  first  figure  on  the  left,  and 
around  whom  is  concentrated  so  much  to  interest  the  beholder, 
is  formed,  and  was  once  entirely  completed,  but  it  is  now  the 
wreck  of  greatness  ;  and  a  fearful  lesson,  in  his  seemingly  muti- 
lated figure,  of  the  crushing  of  the  wicked.  In  the  convulsed 
hand  and  foot  one  can  almost  see  and  touch  the  muscles  quiver- 
ing with  horror,  and  from  these  more  finished  portions  we  can 
form  some  conception  of  the  strength  of  emotion  which  the 
countenance  was  intended  to  express.  It  is  a  masterly  produc- 
tion even  as  it  is. 

"  Then  the  Queen — truly  worthy  her  name.  She  looks  the 
proud,  imperious  princess,  a  woman  endowed  with  great  power, 
and  naturally  accustomed  to,  and  capable  of,  perfect  self-control. 
There  is  an  expression  in  her  countenance  as  if  she  would  rather 
die  than  betray  her  emotion  ;  but,  nevertheless,  the  intense  work- 
ings of  her  soul,  which  she  vainly  struggles  to  repress  and  con- 
ceal, are  visible  in  every  feature.  The  haughty  eye  quails  before 
that  awful  and  mysterious  light  which  is  shedding  such  super- 
natural brightness  on  every  object,  and  her  compressed  lip  and 
convulsed  features  evince  but  too  plainly  that  she  is  under  the 
influence  of  feelings  too  powerful  to  resist  or  subdue.  Her 
hands  also  speak,  as  well  as  the  countenance  ;  one  might  stand 
before  her  for  hours,  imagining  the  workings  of  her  agitated 
soul. 

"  Daniel,  the  mighty  and  holy,  '  the  man  of  excellent  spirit, 
in  whom  were  found  light  and  uaderstanding  and  wisdom  like 
the  wisdom  of  the  gods,'  is  the  central  figure,  of  most  command- 
ing power.  Surrounded  as  he  is  by  human  passion  in  its  storm- 
iest aspects,  his  characteristic  bearing  as  a  prophet  of  the  Most 
High,  is  made  beautifully  prominent.    Majesty,  truth,  and  a 


342 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


heavenly  repose  are  in  him  united,  breathed  in  every  lineament ; 
but  that  eye — in  it  is  blended  pity,  severity,  and  calm  self-pos- 
session, as  he  looks  upon  the  guilty  and  terror-stricken  monarch. 
With  the  compassion  of  a  man  he  would  willingly  have  mercy 
on  the  being  he  condemns,  but  in  the  stern  necessity  of  his  pro- 
phetic character  he  must  reveal  that  which  is  shadowed  forth  in 
his  vision,  the  departing  glory  of  Belshazzar,  with  all  his  honor 
and  brightness,  as  in  violence  and  blood  his  kingdom  is  wrested 
from  him. 

"  Had  Allston  ever  allowed  himself  to  portray  the  Saviour, 
and  chosen  as  his  subject  -  Christ  rebuking  the  people,'  I  think 
the  expression  would  not  have  been  unlike  that  of  Daniel.  In 
the  whole  attitude  there  seems  to  be  this  sentiment,  I  am  the 
prophet  of  Him  who  is  God,  and  there  is  no  other  God  beside 
him.  He  who  spake,  and  all  things  sprang  into  existence.  He 
whose  honor,  thou,  O  King,  hast  trampled  in  the  dust,  and  whose 
power  thou  hast  scorned.  He  has  sent  me  unto  thee,  and  from 
the  message  so  mysteriously  revealed  there  is  no  escape.  Listen  ! 
We  seem  to  hear  his  lofty  renunciation  of  Belshazzar's  kingly 
gifts  and  princely  rewards,  as  he  says,  '  Let  them  be  to  thyself, 
yet  will  I  read  the  writing  unto  the  king,  and  make  known  to 
him  the  interpretation.'  His  left  arm  is  uplifted,  its  power  is 
irresistible.  Near  the  prophet  are  some  fine  female  figures,  ap- 
parently prostrate  in  reverence  of  him. 

"  The  foreground  is  completed  by  a  group  of  astrologers, 
Chaldeans,  and  soothsayers,  most  majestic  in  form  ;  but  those 
countenances  !  Of  all  the  faces  I  ever  saw  on  earth,  or  conceived 
could  dwell  below,  these  are  the  most  perfect  embodiment  of 
every  malignant  passion  which  bafned  skill  and  mortified  pride 
could  call  from  the  depths  of  a  depraved  human  heart.  Anger, 
malice,  bitterness,  and  hatred  seem  contending  for  mastery. 
Their  fierce  glances,  emanations  of  those  inward  fires  which  al- 
most consume  them,  seem  as  if  they  would  annihilate  the  de- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


343 


spised  Hebrew  captive,  whose  instantaneous  comprehension  and 
simple  exposition  of  the  mysterious  and  magical  characters  had 

"  '  Made  Clialdea's  wisdom  dim ! ' 

"  Directly  above  this  group  is  the  handwriting  wThich  has 
been  the  cause  of  their  humiliation,  its  light  is  the  light  of  the 
picture,  and  the  intention  of  the  artist  was  to  have  it  of  the  in- 
tense brightness  as  in  *  Uriel,'  but  the  finishing  touches  can  now 
never  be  given. 

"A  friend  observed  as  a  beautiful  proof  of  the  divinely  im- 
parted power  of  Daniel,  that  he  could  instantly  discover  the 
perfect  form  of  those  mystic  characters,  and  as  directly  reveal 
them,  and  their  interpretation,  whereas  the  Chaldeans  could 
not  gaze  into  the  depths  of  that  glorious  light  with  sufficient 
strength  to  read  the  symbols  of  their  own  language.  '  Their  eyes 
were  hoi  den,  that  they  could  not  see ! 1  But  the  moment  the 
holy  glance  of  the  Almighty's  prophet  rested  thereon,  the  mys- 
tery was  solved,  and  this  circumstance,  added  to  the  contempt 
with  which  they  hitherto  regarded  Daniel,  increased  the  mystifi- 
cation of  their  defeat. 

"  In  the  intervals  between  the  figures  which  occupy  the  fore- 
ground is  seen  the  banquet-table,  gleaming  with  the  rich  treas- 
ures— once  so  sacredly  consecrated  to  the  Temple  service  in  the 
holy  city,  now  so  ingloriously  appropriated.  All  around,  and  in 
the  gallery  above,  are  seated  the  lords  and  princes  who  had 
gathered  for  the  last  time  to  join  in  the  revels  of  the  doomed 
monarch.  In  the  background  is  seen  the  heathen  idol  who  pre- 
sides over  this  scene  of  revelry,  so  soon  changed  to  agony  and 
despair.  A  lamp,  which  is  suspended  above,  pours  upon  the 
statue  a  strong,  but  still  a  distant,  light.  The  effect  is  inimita- 
ble. The  architecture  is  solemn  and  grand,  but  it  is  evidently  a 
secondary  consideration  with  the  artist,  whose  great  design  was 
to  delineate  the  Divine  power,  and  the  passions  of  the  human 


344 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


heart  under  various  influences;  and  most  wonderfully  has  he 
succeeded. 

"  I  feel  that  the  memory  or  the  fame  of  Allston  can  never 
die.  I  feel  that  the  years  to  come  will  raise  a  proud  monument 
to  him  in  every  heart  that  appreciates  the  noble  art  to  which  he 
devoted  all  the  best  powers  of  his  intellectual,  moral,  and  physi- 
cal nature.  Well  may  we  say,  -  The  mind  that  was  among  us,  in 
its  works  is  embalmed.'  With  all  the  excellences  of  this  splen- 
did work  many  will  find  themselves  unsatisfied  in  their  antici- 
pations— those  who  look  at  it  hastily  and  without  feeling, 
without  knowledge  of  human  nature,  without  appreciation  of 
that  wonderful  art  which  can  make  the  canvas  seem  to  breathe. 
One  who  will  read  carefully  the  fifth  chapter  of  Daniel,  and  then 
give  himself  thoughtfully  to  the  study  of  'Belshazzar's  Feast' 
will  find  ample  compensation  in  his  own  soul  for  the  hours  he 
spends  there.  The  religious  power  of  the  picture  will  impress 
him  at  once,  and  the  feeling  will  deepen  continually.  There  is 
repose  only  on  one  brow,  that  of  God's  faithful  servant. 

"  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  assures  us  that  it  took  him  three 
weeks  to  discover  the  beauty  of  the  frescoes  in  the  Vatican. 
To  some  observers  the  unfinished  state  in  which  '  Belshazzar's 
Feast '  is  presented  to  the  world  would  be  sufficient  reason  for 
their  not  beholding  any  beauty  in  it  that  they  should  desire  it. 
But  there  are  many  circumstances  that  may  one  day  be  revealed 
to  the  world  which  would  make  it  a  thousandfold  more  interest- 
ing to  behold  it  just  as  it  is,  and  we  view  it  as  a  precious  relic, 
the  dearer  for  lacking  the  finishing  stroke  of  that  masterly  hand  ; 
and  we,  as  a  nation,  are  honored  and  happy  in  possessing  this 
noble  production  of  so  lofty  and  pure  a  mind,  and  that  on 
which  the  last  trace  of  his  pencil  rested." 

Allston's  picture  of  "  Belshazzar "  is  a  symbol  of  artistic 
power ;  it  is  also  a  record  of  genius  failing  to  fulfil  its  concep- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


345 


tions,  not  from  lack  of  ability,  but  for  want  of  mental  stimulus 
and  favoring  circumstances.  It  was  to  be  paid  for  by  subscrip- 
tions of  $1,000  each  from  ten  gentlemen.  A  part  of  this  amount 
was  advanced  when  the  order  was  given,  thus  imposing  at  the 
outset  the  obligation  to  finish  it.  That  obligation  was  most  un- 
fortunate ;  it  was  a  crushing  weight  upon  Allston  for  over  twenty 
years.  It  did,  as  it  were,  overreach  and  destroy  its  purpose ;  it 
introduced  an  incongruous  and  obstructive  element  into  his  mo- 
tives and  incitements  to  work.  As  a  debt,  it  was  an  unfavorable 
and  paralyzing  influence.  "  I  can  paint  under  affliction,"  said  he, 
"  but  to  paint  under  debt !  " 

Had  Allston  been  spared  the  feeling  of  obligation  for  the 
money  advanced,  his  mind  would  have  strengthened  his  hand 
with  his  former  confidence,  and  "  Belshazzar "  would  probably 
have  been  finished  some  twenty  years  before  death  arrested  his 
brush  wet  with  the  color  of  the  Soothsayer's  face.  Allston  had 
demonstrated  his  ability  to  paint  rapidly,  and  on  his  return  to 
Boston  from  Europe,  in  1818,  "Belshazzar"  was  nearly  com- 
pleted. 

Mr.  J.  H.  Hay  ward,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Dana,  wrote  as  follows : 
"  A  day  or  two  previous  to  my  departure  for  Europe  he  invited 
me  to  visit  his  picture  of  1  Belshazzar,'  not  only  on  my  own  ac- 
count, but  that  I  might  give  an  account  of  it  to  Messrs.  Leslie 
and  Newton  on  my  arrival  in  London.  To  the  best  of  my  recol- 
lection and  belief,  when  I  first  saw  it,  it  was  finished,  not  in  part, 
but  in  toto.  I  said  to  Mr.  Allston,  1  What  more  can  you  possibly 
add  ?  Why,  is  not  the  picture  done  ? '  4  It  is  done,'  he  replied, 
'and  I  am  only  glazing  and  retouching.'  On  taking  leave  I  said, 
1  When  shall  I  tell  your  friends  in  London  that  the  picture  will 
be  open  for  exhibition  ?  '  '  You  may  tell  them,'  he  replied,  '  that 
it  will  certainly  be  out  in  the  course  of  October.'  This  was,  I 
think,  on  the  8th  of  September,  1821." 

By  encouraging  approval  or  praise,  an  artist's  friends  may, 


346 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


and  often  do,  finish  his  pictures.  "  Belshazzar,"  so  far  as  All- 
ston's  work  upon  it  was  concerned,  was  finished  in  1821.  It  was 
nearly  done  when  he  left  London  in  1818,  but  in  bringing  it  to 
America  he  brought  it  away  from  all  stimulating  and  reassuring 
influences.  A  sensitive  imagination  like  Allston's  is  self-ques- 
tioning, self-critical,  and  self-doubting.  When  so  important  a 
work  as  "  Belshazzar,"  one  so  charged  with  responsibility  spring- 
ing from  the  consciousness  of  high  expectation  on  the  part  of  his 
friends  concerning  it,  is  left  to  the  artist's  sole  judgment — when 
there  is  no  one  competent,  whom  he  may  call  in  to  share  the  re- 
sponsibility of  pronouncing  it  a  success,  he  becomes  a  prey  to 
doubts  and  fears,  imagination  quickens  apprehension,  and  he  is 
overcome  by  misgivings  that  he  cannot  control.  The  reaction  of 
the  mind  upon  itself  in  solitude  is  unhealthy,  and  most  unfavora- 
ble to  the  execution  of  any  work  of  genius.  The  stronger  the 
imagination,  the  more  important  the  fellowship  with  those  of 
similar  tastes  and  attainments. 

A  poet  with  nature  and  his  books  about  him  may  need  noth- 
ing more,  but  a  painter  must  be  among  painters.  The  attrition 
of  kindred  minds  is  indispensable  to  great  results  in  art.  Imag- 
ination must  have  something  human  besides  its  own  creations  to 
strengthen  it.  The  mind  that  feeds  only  upon  itself  has  entered 
upon  a  process  of  mental  starvation.  Contact,  even  with  inferior 
minds,  may  impart  a  modicum  of  strength,  but  isolation,  for  an 
artist,  is  always  a  condition  of  weakness  and  decline.  Allston's 
transition  from  the  society  of  artists  in  London,  to  that  of  his 
friends  in  Boston,  was,  in  its  relation  to  his  art,  for  a  while  un- 
felt,  and,  it  may  be,  unsuspected.  The  glow  of  his  reception,  the 
genial  whole-heartedness  of  the  welcome  given  him  by  his  en- 
thusiastic admirers,  buoyed  his  spirits,  allowing  no  sense  of  loss. 
Feted  continually,  encouraged  with  substantial  and  liberal  patron- 
age on  all  sides,  the  central  figure  of  interest  in  the  society  of  in- 
tellectual men,  whose  appreciation  manifested  itself  in  words  and 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


347 


deeds  of  refinement  and  generosity,  there  was  no  place  for  a  sense 
of  deficiency  in  artistic  conditions. 

This  diversion  of  his  mind  continued  to  hold  him  up  from 
a  realization  of  his  loss  in  leaving  England.  It  may  not  have 
been  till  he  opened  his  studio  in  Cambridgeport,  and  had  passed 
through  the  exciting  novelty  of  his  situation  there  that  he  fully 
realized  the  want  of  artistic  influences,  which  he  had  left  in 
London.  His  mind  was  creative  to  a  degree  that  could  people 
his  painting-room  with  visions  of  beauty.  Thus  gifted  he  might 
have  whiled  away  the  years  unconscious  of  artistic  loneliness  or 
any  sense  of  loss ;  but  his  dream-life,  which  could  minister  to 
him  so  constantly  and  pleasingly,  was  soon  disturbed  by  pecuni- 
ary embarrassment,  and  we  have  the  saddening  picture  of  a  man 
capable  of  the  highest  attainment  in  the  sphere  of  the  highest 
art,  awakened  and  distressed  by  the  cruel  touch  of  want. 

In  his  large,  new  painting-room,  constructed  to  meet  his  re- 
quirements in  painting  large  pictures,  "  Belshazzar"  was  unrolled, 
with  its  back  to  the  eastern  wall.  Its  12  x  16  feet  of  surface 
was  screened  by  a  curtain  so  arranged  as  to  be  easily  drawn  aside. 
No  eye  but  his  was  to  see  the  picture  during  its  progress.  Leon- 
ard Jarvis,  in  his  letter  to  Mr.  Dana,  extracts  of  which  we  have 
given  elsewhere,  says :  "  "Whenever  I  visited  your  capital  I  made 
it  a  point  to  seek  out  my  old  friend  (Allston).  On  one  occasion 
I  urged  him  to  show  me  his  *  Belshazzar.'  He  entreated  me  not 
to  press  my  request,  1  For,'  said  he,  1  it  gives  me  pain  to  refuse 
you,  but  if  that  picture  were  seen  by  any  person,  I  should  never 
finish  it.  I  know,'  continued  he,  1  that  this  is  a  weakness,  but  I 
cannot  help  it.' " 

To  the  same  purport  is  the  following  letter  from  Mr.  Sargent : 

"Boston,  September  2,  1844. 

"  To  K.  H.  Dana,  Esq. 

Dear  Sir:  In  reply  to  your  inquiries,  in  the  note  of  31st  ult.. 
this  moment  received,  I  can  only  say  that  I  purchased  an  estate 


348 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


of  the  late  John  Prince,  in  Pearl  and  Milk  Streets,  January  22, 
1828 ;  there  was  a  stable  thereon  about  25  x  45  feet.  The  stable 
is  still  standing.  That  stable  was  approached  from  Milk  Street, 
over  land  now  covered  by  stores ;  and  there  Mr.  Allston  wrought 
on  the  great  picture.  How  long  he  had  been  the  tenant  of  Mr. 
Prince,  I  know  not ;  he  was  mine  but  a  short  time. 

"  His  great  simplicity  of  character  struck  me  very  forcibly. 
When  he  heard  of  my  having  purchased  the  estate,  he  came  to 
see  me,  and  appeared  perplexed  and  pained  by  some  prospective 
trouble,  which  for  some  time,  I  could  not  comprehend.  '  I  was 
wholly  unprepared  for  this,'  said  he.  '  I  fear  it  will  cause  me  a 
good  deal  of  embarrassment.' 

"  '  Not  at  all,  sir,'  I  replied.  '  There  is  not  the  slightest  oc- 
casion for  it ;  you  can  remain  perfectly  at  ease  until  you  find  bet- 
ter accommodations.' 

"  '  But  my  trouble,  sir,'  he  rejoined,  '  is  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  your  men  will  enter  the  building.' 

"  '  My  men  will  not  have  occasion  to  enter  that  building,  Mr. 
Allston.' 

"  '  Yes,  to  take  possession  they  will,  you  know,  and  I  wish  to 
ask  if  they  cannot  enter  with  their  backs  toward  the  picture  ?  ' 
I  at  once  comprehended  his  difficulty,  and  assured  him  that  the 
old  English  livery  of  seizin  was  unnecessary  here,  and  that  by 
our  law  a  constructive  delivery  of  possession  was  enough.  He 
seemed  highly  delighted ;  but,  after  taking  leave  of  me,  and 
going  part  way  down-stairs,  he  came  back,  with  some  anxiety  on 
his  countenance,  to  ask  me  if  I  was  quite  sure. 

"  Yours  with  regard, 

"L.  M.  Saegent." 

It  is  painful  to  contemplate  Allston's  slavery  to  a  morbid  sen- 
sitiveness ;  to  the  unreasonable  influence  of  a  mistaken  idea ;  to 
a  conviction,  upon  the  fifth  unrolling  of  "  Belshazzar,"  that  he 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


349 


had  no  right  to,  and  could  not  conscientiously,  undertake  any 
other  work  till  that  was  done.  The  strength  and  control  of  his 
thought  upon  this  subject  is  strikingly  illustrated  by  the  follow- 
ing incident,  told  by  K.  H.  Dana,  Jr. : 

"  When  Lord  Morpeth  was  in  Boston,  in  the  winter  of  1841, 
he  called  on  Allston,  and  in  the  course  of  his  conversation  alluded 
to  *  Uriel  in  the  Sun,'  and  the  great  delight  his  sister,  the  Duch- 
ess of  Sutherland,  took  in  having  possession  of  it ;  and  added, 
'  She  requested  me  to  say  to  Mr.  Allston  that,  if  she  might  be  so 
bold,  she  would  esteem  it  a  favor  if  she  could  have  another  pict- 
ure from  his  hand.'  And  then  after  examining  various  sketches, 
his  Lordship  added  that  if  he  might  be  allowed  to  dictate,  he 
would  suggest  that  it  should  be  the  1  Court  of  Titania.'  To  this 
Allston  assented,  and  in  taking  leave  said :  1  Do  me  the  honor  of 
presenting  my  compliments  to  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland,  and 
say  to  her  Grace,  if  you  please,  that  my  pictures  are  my  children, 
and  as  she  has  treated  one  of  them  with  so  much  kindness  and 
courtesy,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  commit  another  to  her  care.' " 

The  writer,  when  a  lad  of  sixteen,  was  privileged  to  hear 
Allston's  description  of  this  beautifully  outlined  sketch  of  the 
"Court  of  Titania,"  from  "Midsummer-Night's  Dream,"  with 
which  he  usually  entertained  visitors  to  his  studio.  It  was  very 
interesting,  and  the  impression  he  received  is  among  his  indeli- 
ble memories.  Allston  never  showed  this  picture  to  one  who 
had  not  seen  it  without  describing  and  explaining  its  various 
points.  While  thus  engaged  he  was  himself  the  object  of  great- 
est interest.  His  expressive  eye  would  kindle  as  his  words, 
skilfully  chosen  and  graphic,  would  flow  in  exposition  from 
part  to  part.  The  canvas  was  not  large,  4x6  feet.  The  com- 
pensation named  and  settled  upon  was  £5,000,  an  amount  at 
that  time  unprecedented  for  a  picture  by  an  American  artist. 
Twenty-five  thousand  dollars  for  a  work  that  he  might  have  fin- 
ished within  a  year !  a  competency  which,  it  is  obvious  to  con- 


350 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


sider,  would  have  disembarrassed  him  and  enabled  him  to  finish 
"  Belshazzar ; "  would  have  taken  him  out  of  daily  stress  for 
money,  and  doubtless  prolonged  his  life,  by  the  assurance  of  a 
peaceful  independence.    Certainly  every  consideration  of  pru- 
dence should  have  counselled  his  curtaining  "  Belshazzar  "  for  a 
time  sufficient  to  execute  so  important  and  tempting  a  commis- 
sion.   But  his  conscience  was  imperious.    He  would  accept  the 
order  only  on  condition  that  the  Duchess  would  wait  till  he  had 
finished  his  great  picture.    This  was  an  indefinite  postponement, 
for  "  Belshazzar  "  was  then  more  unfinished  than  it  was  when  he 
brought  it  to  America,  over  twenty  years  before.    "  I  would  not," 
said  he,  "  undertake  to  paint  a  picture  for  any  crowned  head  in 
Christendom  till  '  Belshazzar '  is  finished."    This  extravagance 
of  morbid  sensibility  was  the  outcome  of  a  mind  that  had  brooded 
upon  one  subject  till  it  had  lost  the  power  of  estimating  its  true 
relations  to  himself  or  to  others — a  mind  that  in  solitude  had 
contemplated  unimportant  considerations  till  they  were  magni- 
fied and  distorted,  till  folly  seemed  wisdom,  and  reason  imprac- 
ticable.   The  Duchess  of  Sutherland's  commission  might  have 
been  executed  in  a  few  months.    Allston  could  have  secured  the 
services  of  some  young  artist  (there  were  several  at  the  time  in 
Boston  fully  competent)  who  could  have  traced  on  a  new  canvas 
the  outlines  of  the  picture,  and,  under  his  direction,  laid  it  in,  and 
accomplished  the  greater  portion  of  the  manual  labor  requisite, 
carrying  it  so  far  that  Allston  could  easily  have  finished  it  in  six 
months.    Moreover,  according  to  custom  in  England,  the  Duch- 
ess would  have  advanced  part  of  the  compensation  agreed  upon, 
an  amount  quite  sufficient  to  pay  his  debts,  and  provide  amply 
for  his  expenses  while  at  work  on  her  picture.    But  to  a  mind  so 
hedged  about  by  visionary  considerations  acting  upon  his  moral 
sensibility,  no  scheme,  however  simple  and  obvious,  could  enlist 
the  effort  to  carry  it  out. 

The  experiment  of  employing  an  assistant  to  work  on  "Bel- 


Outline  Sketch  of  Titania's  Fairy  Court. 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 


oiuiselled.  his  curta.iiiiiig  <<'j3elslifizzar   for  a 


llfell^'^WkiMi^k'Wi  tttth  reason  iniprac- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


351 


shazzar "  had  been  proposed,  and  he  had  received  it  favorably. 
But  that  which  commended  itself  to  his  judgment  found  no  re- 
sponse in  his  energy  or  will.  He  seemed  unable,  at  this  period, 
to  diverge  from  the  path  and  methods  he  had  followed,  though 
they  were  carrying  him  farther  and  farther  from  his  purpose. 
The  vigor  of  youth  had  passed,  its  ambitions  and  its  sustaining 
hopes  were  gone,  when  he  undertook,  single-handed,  to  complete 
the  difficult  and  laborious  work  of  reconstructing  his  great  pict- 
ure on  a  new  theory  as  to  its  perspective.  This  theory  involved 
a  change  in  the  point  of  sight.  He  had  made  it,  as  he  thought, 
too  high  for  a  picture  which,  from  its  size,  would  naturally  be 
placed  above  the  eye  of  the  spectator.  But  even  a  reconstruc- 
tion so  radical  could  have  been  accomplished  with  comparative 
ease  by  starting  de  novo  ;  much  perplexing  confusion  would  have 
been  avoided  by  making  on  a  new  canvas  the  extensive  altera- 
ions  involved.  To  alter  the  point  of  sight  in  a  picture  is  to 
change  the  relations  of  all  its  parts  to  each  other,  a  work  of 
incalculable  difficulty  in  so  large  a  painting. 

In  estimating  "Belshazzar  "  as  a  work  of  art,  we  cannot  urge 
too  strongly  a  consideration  of  the  unfinished  and  transition 
state  in  which  it  was  left  by  Allston,  and  is  now  seen.  In  the 
accumulations  of  a  studio  there  is  usually  much  unfinished 
work — outlines,  sketches,  dead  colors,  and  studies — that  the  artist 
would  not  show  to  anyone,  and  by  which  it  would  be  unfair  to 
measure  his  capabilities  as  a  painter.  The  accumulations  of 
many  years  were  taken  from  Allston's  studio,  and  are  now  placed, 
with  a  discrimination  that  in  many  instances  gives  prominence 
to  his  poorest  work.  We  can  find  no  justifying  cause  for  an  ex- 
posure so  out  of  harmony  with  his  known  disposition  to  screen 
his  unfinished  work  from  the  public  eye. 

The  propriety  of  exhibiting  "  Belshazzar  "  in  its  present  con- 
dition was  questioned,  but  the  public  interest  in  the  picture 
soon  after  Allston's  -death  seemed  to  demand  its  exposition. 


352 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


We  think  there  should  be  appended  to  it  a  brief  statement  in 
explanation  of  its  apparent  incongruities  and  contradictions. 
When  we  consider  how  sensitive  Allston  was  about  showing  this 
picture,  how  careful  that  it  should  not  be  seen,  even  when,  with 
the  exception  of  a  little  retouching  and  glazing,  it  was,  as  he 
said,  finished,  we  feel  that  it  is  almost  a  breach  of  confidence  to 
exhibit  it,  even  under  the  best  conditions  of  light  and  place. 
But  to  allow  it  to  be  seen  where  the  position  of  the  spectator 
distorts  the  perspective  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  great  injustice. 

In  the  "  Allston  Boom,"  so  called,  of  the  Boston  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  though  shared  by  Stuart,  Copley,  and  others,  there 
are  few  pictures  by  Allston  that  the  common  observer  would  re- 
gard as  the  work  of  more  than  an  ordinary  artist,  while  there 
are  several  that  do  not  rise  even  to  that  prominence.  In  a  part 
of  the  building  remote  from  the  "  Allston  Boom  "  there  are  a 
few  outlines,  very  beautiful,  though  representing  only  the  first 
stage  of  his  work.  But  where  is  "  Belshazzar,"  the  picture  upon 
which  he  had  expended  so  much  thought  and  labor — which 
had  occupied  him  at  intervals  for  more  than  half  his  working 
life — the  picture  about  which  so  much  has  been  said  and  more 
written  than  of  any  contemporaneous  work  of  art — the  most 
historic  picture  ever  painted  by  an  American?  It  is  not  in  the 
"  Allston  Boom,"  it  is  not  in  any  of  the  galleries  ;  but  high  up 
in  the  hallway  of  the  stairs  leading  to  the  galleries  it  hangs, 
where  it  cannot  be  judged  intelligently  and  fairly. 

The  proper  distance  at  which  to  view  a  picture  is  at  least 
twice  its  length  ;  the  proper  place  to  stand  in  viewing  it  is  at  the 
point  of  station  directly  in  front  of  the  point  of  sight.  It  is  im- 
possible so  to  view  "  Belshazzar  "  where  it  now  hangs.  We  can- 
not wonder  that  anyone  whose  opinion  of  Allston  is  formed  from 
his  pictures,  as  exhibited  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts, 
should  express  disappointment  and  a  strong  conviction  that  he  is 
not  entitled  to  the  high  rank  given  him  by  his  contemporaries. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


353 


In  arranging  a  gallery  of  paintings  the  demands  of  space  and 
symmetry  often  prevent  due  and  proper  consideration  of  their 
requirements  in  reference  to  tone,  light,  and  distance.  The  diffi- 
culty of  assigning  proper  positions  to  a  large  number  of  pictures 
is  well  known  to  be  very  great.  We  are  far  from  censuring  as 
intentional  the  injustice  to  "  Belshazzar,"  but  certainly  no  artist 
could  have  so  placed  it  without  knowing  that  he  was  damaging 
the  picture  and  the  reputation  of  its  author.  The  very  object 
which  led  Allston  to  attempt  the  extremely  difficult  task  of  lower- 
ing the  point  of  sight  was  to  overcome  the  bad  effect  of  a  slight 
elevation  above  the  eye  of  the  spectator.  It  is  obvious  that  no 
change  contemplated  by  him  could  overcome  the  bad  effect  of 
its  present  elevation. 

Why  not  put  "  Belshazzar  "  in  the  "  Allston  Room  ?  "  Why 
not  let  it  hang  on  the  wall  opposite  the  large  door  of  that  room, 
thus  occupying  the  place  of  honor,  in  which  it  could  be  seen  at  a 
good  distance  as  you  approach  the  entrance  ?  The  place  is  in 
every  way  suitable,  and  the  difficulty  of  rearrangement  involved 
by  no  means  insurmountable.  If  grandeur  of  conception  and 
forceful  delineation  of  feeling,  from  its  simplest  to  its  subt- 
lest manifestation ;  if  ideality,  imagination,  fancy,  and  dramatic 
power  are  of  value;  if  these  enter  into,  and  by  their  obvious 
presence  measure  greatness  in  pictorial  representations,  then 
"  Belshazzar  "  is  incomparably  the  greatest  picture  on  the  walls 
of  the  Museum  of  Art,  and  yet  it  is  in  a  position  unworthy  of  the 
poorest,  and,  as  we  think,  needlessly  so.  In  the  interest  of  art, 
in  the  interest  of  the  memory  of  a  great  man,  who  left  his  im- 
press on  foreign  schools,  and  did  more  for  art  in  America  than 
any  other  painter  of  his  time,  "  Belshazzar  "  should  be  so  placed 
as  to  be  seen  to  advantage.  To  retain  it  in  its  present  position 
is,  by  disregarding  the  requirements  of  the  picture,  a  great  in- 
justice to  the  memory  of  its  author.  Better  roll  it  up  once  more, 

and  forever. 

23 


CHAPTEK  XXVIII. 


EECOLLECTIONS  OF  WASHINGTON  ALLSTON  BY  R.  H.  DANA,  JR. — HIS 
PREFERENCE  OF  REYNOLDS  TO  VANDYKE. — OPINIONS  ON  THE 
OLD  MASTERS,  AND  VARIOUS  OTHER  SUBJECTS. 

The  late  Kichard  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  whose  father,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, was  Allston's  brother-in-law,  left  interesting  memo- 
randa of  recollections  of  Allston : 

"  When  Mr.  Allston  was  at  Pet  worth  he  was  one  day  looking 
at  a  portrait  of  Vandyke's,  when  Lord  Egremont  coming  up, 
asked  his  opinion  of  it. 

"  '  Very  fine,'  said  he,  *  and  had  I  not  known  it  to  be  Van- 
dyke's I  should  have  supposed  it  to  be  one  of  Sir  Joshua's.' 

"'Do  you  mean  to  compliment  Vandyke  or  Sir  Joshua?' 
said  his  Lordship. 

"  '  Vandyke,'  answered  Mr.  Allston. 

"  '  Then  you  think  him  inferior  to  Sir  Joshua? '  said  Lord 
Egremont. 

"  '  Yes,  I  do,'  said  Mr.  Allston. 

"  '  So  do  I,'  said  his  Lordship,  '  though  I  hardly  dare  to  say 

so.' 

"  This  anecdote  Mr.  Allston  related  when  nearly  sixty  years 
of  age,  and  added  that  he  had  never  seen  reason  for  changing  his 
opinion.  '  Sir  Joshua,'  said  he,  '  wanted  Vandyke's  correctness. 
He  did  not  draw  so  well,  but  he  had  more  genius.' 

"  Allston  took  great  pleasure  in  reading  Talfourd's  '  Life  and 
Letters  of  Lamb.'    He  had  been  intimate  with  Lamb  when  in 


WASHING  TON  ALLSTON 


355 


London,  and  was  much  attached  to  him.  He  told  several  anec- 
dotes of  him,  which,  I  believe,  are  not  told  by  Talf ourd.  Among 
them  were  the  following  : 

"  Lamb  was  present  when  a  naval  officer  was  giving  an  ac- 
count of  an  action  which  he  had  been  in,  and  to  illustrate  the 
carelessness  and  disregard  of  life  at  such  times  said  that  a  sailor 
had  both  his  legs  shot  off,  and  as  his  shipmates  were  carrying 
him  below,  another  shot  came  and  took  off  both  his  arms ;  they, 
thinking  he  was  pretty  much  used  up,  though  life  was  still  in 
him,  threw  him  out  of  a  port. 

"  '  Shame,  d  d  shame,'  stuttered  out  Lamb, '  he  m-m-might 

have  1-lived  to  have  been  an  a-a-ornament  to  society  ! ' 

"  Mr.  Allston  was  on  a  visit  to  Coleridge,  at  Bath  or  Bristol, 
when  Coleridge  received  a  letter  from  Lamb,  in  which  he  said 
that  he  was  to  dine  that  evening  with  the  Worshipful  Company 
of  Fishmongers,  and  as  he  expected  to  have  a  glorious  time  he 
had  spoken  for  a  couple  of  watchmen  and  a  window-shutter  to 
take  him  home." 

"  Once,  in  company  with  Lamb  and  Coleridge,  with  a  few 
others,  Coleridge  spoke  very  highly  of  a  '  Dr.  Bell.'  '  Pooh  ! ' 
said  Lamb,  very  gravely,  '  that  is  only  because  you  are  so  fond 
of  Mrs.  Bell.' 

"  After  Coleridge  and  Lamb  had  left,  Allston  asked  a  gentle- 
man present  if  it  was  true  that  Coleridge  was  much  attached 
to  Mrs.  Bell,  for  he  had  never  heard  him  speak  of  her. 

"  1  Oh,'  said  the  gentleman,  1  that's  only  Lamb's  nonsense. 
The  poor  woman  has  been  in  a  madhouse  these  forty  years.' 

"Allston  became  intimately  acquainted  with  Coleridge,  and 
they  were  continually  together  during  a  residence  of  several 
months  in  Rome.  When  Coleridge  was  at  Highgate  he  was 
often  there  for  days  together.  He  had  the  highest  admiration, 
nay,  reverence,  for  Coleridge's  powers  of  mind,  and  he  loved  him 
as  a  man  and  a  friend ;  and,  what  was  still  more,  he  looked  up 


356 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTOX 


to  him  as  a  sincere  and  humble  Christian.  He  often  spoke  of 
Coleridge  as  having  been  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  his  mind 
in  every  way — in  his  art,  in  poetry,  and  in  his  opinions  and 
habits  of  thought  generally — and  also  to  his  religious  character. 

"  Nothing  ever  pained  Allston  more  than  to  hear  anyone  (as 
some  men  inclined  to  do  from  difference  of  political,  but  more 
especially  of  religious,  opinions)  speak  slightingly  of  Coleridge,  or 
sneeringly  of  him  as  a  man,  a  husband,  a  friend,  and  a  Christian. 

"  Allston  once  told  me  an  anecdote,  which  he  never  told  to 
more  than  one  or  two  besides,  and  then  with  a  wish  that  it  might 
be  kept  secret. 

"  Many  of  Coleridge's  enemies  made  a  handle  of  his  separa- 
tion from  his  wife  to  injure  his  character,  and  Mr.  Allston  was 
often  asked  in  America  what  he  knew  of  the  matter.  He  always 
answered  that  it  was  an  amicable  separation  ;  that  Coleridge 
always  spoke  very  respectfully  of  his  wife,  and  had  behaved  very 
honorably  to  her  in  the  matter.  However,  he  told  my  father 
and  myself  an  anecdote  which  plainly  showed  the  cause  of  the 
separation,  but  he  enjoined  upon  us  never  to  repeat  it  during  the 
lifetime  of  Coleridge  or  himself ;  *  For,'  said  he,  '  nothing  ever 
could  give  Coleridge  greater  pain  then  to  be  defended  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  wife,  and  therefore  I  have  never  told  this  anecdote 
before,  and  should  not  feel  right  in  telling  it  generally,  even 
after  Coleridge's  death ;  but  as  it  goes  to  show  one  probable 
reason  for  his  conduct,  I  cannot  but  wish  to  have  it  preserved.' 

"  Mrs.  Gillman  told  Mr.  Allston  that  the  younger  sister  of  Mrs. 
Coleridge,  when  upon  her  deathbed,  said  that  Coleridge  would 
never  be  able  to  live  with  her  sister,  for  she  had  the  most  hor- 
rible temper  that  she  had  ever  known  or  heard  of  ;  that  she  was 
both  irascible  and  implacable,  and  that  when  they  were  girls  at  a 
boarding-school  they  were  glad  when  the  vacations  were  over, 
and  they  were  to  go  back  to  school,  for  her  terrible  temper  made 
the  house  so  uncomfortable  to  them.    This  she  told  Mrs.  Gill- 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON  357 

man  upon  her  deathbed,  when  speaking  of  her  family  and  of  Mr. 
Coleridge.  She  lived  with  them  some  time  after  their  marriage, 
and  said  that  no  one  could  behave  better  than  Mr.  Coleridge  to 
her  sister.  Mrs.  Gillman  told  this  in  serious  and  secret  conver- 
sation with  Mr.  Allston. 

"When  Mr.  Allston  and  Coleridge  were  travelling  in  Italy 
they  stopped  at  a  miserable  inn,  where  Mr.  Allston,  for  want 
of  something  better  to  do,  took  up  an  execrable  book  and  was 
reading  it  when  Coleridge  came  in.  He  showed  it  to  him  and 
said  that  he  had  been  much  amused  with  the  exceeding  badness 
of  the  style ;  but  Coleridge  advised  him  to  put  it  down,  saying : 

"  '  You  may  think  that  it  amuses  you,  but  you  had  better  be 
doing  nothing.    You  cannot  touch  pitch  without  being  defiled.' 

"  Coleridge  knew  human  nature,  but  he  was  an  indifferent  dis- 
criminator of  persons.  Mr.  Allston  tells  an  anecdote  which  was 
related  to  him  by  a  literary  friend,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten, 
illustrating  this.  He  was  travelling  with  Coleridge  in  Scotland 
when  they  fell  in  with  a  party  of  fashionables  from  London  ad- 
miring a  waterfall.    '  Magnificent,'  said  one  of  the  cockneys. 

"  Coleridge  was  struck  with  the  appropriateness  of  the  epithet, 
and  without  suspecting,  as  any  man  with  a  pair  of  eyes  might 
have  done,  that  it  was  the  result  of  chance,  turned  to  him  and 
commenced  talking  about  the  waterfall  and  giving  many  reasons 
why  '  magnificent '  was  the  proper  epithet,  and  not  sublime,  or 
beautiful,  or  any  other.  His  friend  thought  that  Coleridge  was 
wasting  time  and  sense,  and  the  event  proved  it ;  for  the  cockney 
turned  and  lisped  out,  with  a  perfectly  unmoved  expression : 

"  '  Very  true,  sir ;  not  only  magnificent,  but  sublime  and 
beautiful.' 

"  '  Come  away,  Coleridge,'  said  his  friend,  taking  his  arm. 

"  Allston  spent  the  greater  part  of  a  day  in  walking  through 
Caen  wood  with  Coleridge,  and  talking  upon  future  punishment. 
Coleridge  expressed  his  belief  in  it  very  distinctly  and  strongly  ; 


358  WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 

and  Allston  has  often  spoken  of  the  emphasis  and  effect  with 
which  he  brought  in  the  words,  '  As  a  tree  falleth,  so  shall  it  lie.' 

"  Allston  was  sitting  with  Mrs.  Gillman  and  Coleridge  in  the 
garden  at  Highgate,  when  Coleridge  read  to  them  something 
which  he  had  written,  in  which  was  the  following  passage  :  !  A 
Scotchman  is  a  superficial  German  and  a  dull  Frenchman.'  Mrs. 
Gillman  remonstrated  with  him,  and  asked  him  how  he  could  be 
willing,  by  a  single  sentence,  to  get  the  ill-will  and  hurt  the  feel- 
ings of  a  whole  nation.  After  a  little  conversation  between  Cole- 
ridge and  Allston,  Mrs.  Gillman  said  that  she  thought  he  had 
better  strike  it  out,  and  added,  'And  I  will  give  you  my  rea- 
sons.' 

"  '  No,  madam  ;  don't,  for  God's  sake,'  said  Coleridge,  '  for  if 
you  do  you  will  spoil  the  whole.  A  woman  judges  by  her  in- 
stinct, and  not  by  reason.  I'll  strike  it  out,  but  I've  more  re- 
spect for  your  first  impression  than  I  should  probably  have  for 
your  argument.' 

"  Coleridge  told  Allston  that  he  was  once  travelling  in  a  stage- 
coach with  Southey,  when  they  had  for  their  fellow-passenger  a 
watchmaker  who  was  a  self-taught  man  and  was  very  much  given 
to  reading  poetry.  Hearing  Southey  call  Coleridge  by  his  sur- 
name he  asked  whether  he  was  the  Mr.  Coleridge  who  had  re- 
cently published  a  volume  of  poems,  and  finding  he  was  the 
same,  praised  them  very  much,  especially  a  dialogue,  which  he 
pronounced  capital. 

"  '  I  don't  remember  any  dialogue  among  them,'  said  Cole- 
ridge. 

" '  Oh,  yes,'  said  the  man  ;  '  it  was  between  Strophe  (pro- 
nounced in  one  syllable)  and  Anti  Strophe.  It  was  capital,  but, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  think  Strophe  had  it,  all  hollow  ! ' 

"Coleridge  was  engaged  for  some  time  in  writing  for  the 
Courier,  and  when  he  left  it,  the  editor,  Mr.  Stewart,  a  clear- 
headed Scotchman,  who  had  known  a  good  deal  of  the  world 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


359 


from  having  conducted  for  many  years  that  leading  political  jour- 
nal, said  to  him,  '  Well,  Mr.  Coleridge,  you  say  you  must  leave 
me.  I  am  sorry  you  are  going.  Before  I  knew  you,  sir,  I  did 
not  believe  there  was  a  man  of  principle  in  the  world.' 

"  When  Allston  was  in  Italy  there  was  an  English  artist  there 
who  had  lived  abroad  more  than  in  England,  and  affected  to  hate 
his  own  country,  and  was  a  man  of  rather  bad  character.  Allston 
painted  a  picture  which  was  much  admired  for  its  clouds.  This 
artist  asked  him  how  he  produced  his  effect,  and  Mr.  Allston 
told  him  freely  how  he  managed  his  colors. 

"  The  English  artist  then  began  a  picture  and  endeavored  to 
paint  clouds  in  the  same  manner.  Allston  went  into  his  studio, 
and  finding  that  he  had  been  partly  misunderstood,  took  the 
brush  into  his  own  hands  and  painted  for  him  until  he  had  made 
him  master  of  the  mode.  Coleridge  said  to  Allston,  '  You  are 
doing  yourself  no  good,  and  him  a  favor  for  which  he  will  not 
thank  you.'  Allston  doubted  the  man's  ingratitude,  and  said 
that  at  all  events  he  was  not  sorry  he  had  done  him  a  kindness. 
Coleridge,  to  try  the  man,  went  to  his  studio  and  praised  the 
picture,  especially  the  clouds.  The  man  made  no  explanation. 
Coleridge  then  went  further  and  said,  1  You've  got  Allston's 
clouds,  or  Allston's  method  of  painting  clouds.'  1  Oh,'  said  the 
man,  '  we  knew  all  that  before.' 

"  Allston  told  artists  all  that  he  knew.  Other  artists  discover 
a  mode  and  keep  it  to  themselves.  Allston  opened  his  knowl- 
edge to  all. 

"  My  father  said  he  never  could  forget  the  delightful  expres- 
sion with  which  Allston  came  from  seeing  Haydon's  picture  of 
*  Christ's  Entry  into  Jerusalem.'  His  eye  beamed,  his  whole 
face  lighted  up,  and  he  looked  as  though  he  had  received  pure 
delight.  My  father,  who  had  seen  it,  said,  'But  is  not  there 
this  and  that  defect  ?  ' 

" 1  Oh,  yes,'  said  Allston ;  £  but  the  picture  has  genius  and 


360 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


life  in  it.  It  lias  glorious  parts,  and  one  need  not  see  its  de- 
fects.'   Nor  did  he  ever  speak  of  its  defects. 

"  He  always  cited  with  approbation  a  story  of  an  Italian  artist 
who  praised  a  statue,  and  when  his  pupils  pointed  out  defects, 
glaring  defects  in  one  place  and  another,  admitted  them  all,  and 
said  there  were  worse '  defects  than  those  ;  1  You  have  not  men- 
tioned all,  nor  can  you,  but  it's  a  glorious  statue.' 

"A  picture  painted  by  him  called  'Alpine  Scenery,'  and 
owned  by  Mr.  Isaac  P.  Davis,  was  retouched  by  a  picture-fin- 
isher and  restored  in  Boston.  Allston  saw  it  and  said,  '  It  is 
not  my  picture  now.'  The  foreground  was  altered  and  the  tone 
taken  out  of  it. 

"  He  once  told  me  he  could  paint  the  portraits  of  all  his  class 
in  college,  and  he  believed,  of  all  who  were  in  college  with  him, 
from  recollection.  If  the  names  were  given  to  him,  he  could  call 
up  the  face  to  each  name. 

"  This  anecdote  I  had  from  Dr.  Channing.  Mr.  Allston  had 
engaged  to  paint  a  picture  for  Mr.  J.  Phillips  for  $1,000.  Mr. 
Phillips  advanced  $500.  When  the  picture  was  done  it  was 
worth  much  more,  at  least  $1,500,  even  at  the  rate  of  sales  in 
America.  Mr.  Phillips  was  told  of  this,  and  he  (or  his  agent) 
wrote  Mr.  Allston  a  line  enclosing  the  $500,  and  telling  him 
they  were  aware  that  the  picture  was  worth  more  than  the  sum 
agreed,  and  asking  him  if  he  was  willing  they  should  send  him 
$500  more.  To  this  Allston  replied  that  he  could  not  now 
agree  for  more  than  he  had  first  contracted  with  Mr.  Phillips 
to  paint  the  picture  for,  or  something  to  that  effect.  But  at 
the  same  time  he  told  a  friend  that  if  Mr.  Phillips  had  sent  him 
the  $500  without  asking  him  to  ask  it  for  the  picture  and 
change  his  bargain,  he  would  have  accepted  it,  and  been  very 
glad  of  it.  He  knew  the  picture  was  worth  the  whole,  and  he 
would  have  received  it  if  sent,  but  could  not  ask  more  for  his 
picture  than  he  had  agreed  upon. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


361 


"  Chester  Harding  told  Alexander  the  artist  that  at  one  time 
Allston  was  very  much  distressed  for  money,  and  driven  to 
great  straits,  and  that  Harding,  being  then  very  intimate  with 
Allston,  and  confident  of  his  friendship,  suggested  to  him  that 
he  could  easily  relieve  himself  by  painting  two  or  three  pictures 
off  hand ;  that  they  would  sell  well,  and  though  they  might  not 
do  justice  to  his  powers  in  all  respects  yet  they  would  without 
doubt  be  clever  and  would  pass  muster  very  well,  and  be  far 
better  than  any  other  of  our  artists  could  do.  But  he  said  he 
received  as  severe  a  rebuke  from  Allston  as  though  he  had  sug- 
gested a  forgery  or  peculation. 

"  A  friend  lent  him  Carlyle's  sketch  of  the  character  of  Mira- 
beau,  extracted  from  his  '  French  Eevolution '  into  the  West- 
minster Review.  Soon  afterward  someone  asked  him  what  he 
thought  of  it.  £  I  do  not  see  any  original  ideas  in  it,  but  I  see 
a  great  deal  of  original  English.  He  takes  a  common  thought 
and  belabors  it  with  his  Babylonish  jargon  until  it  appears  like 
something  original.  The  man  has  made  a  god  of  his  own  intel- 
lect, and  worships  it  with  perpetual  summersets.' 

"  Father  says  that  Allston  was  invited  to  dine  with  Stuart 
Newton,  who  had  just  come  from  London,  and  that  he  went  an- 
ticipating great  pleasure  from  hearing  of  the  English  artists,  and 
of  all  that  was  doing  in  the  art  in  London.  But  he  came  back 
quite  dejected.  On  being  asked  about  it,  he  said,  '  I  have  not 
heard  a  single  man  praised.' 

"  The  last  time  Mrs.  Dana  spent  an  evening  at  Allston's  this  , 
incident  occurred,  showing  his  great  kindness  and  simplicity. 
She  had  mislaid  her  bag,  and  when  we  were  ready  to  go  she 
mentioned  that  she  could  not  find  it.  Some  search  was  made,  but 
to  no  purpose,  and  it  was  given  up  for  the  time.  "We  observed 
that  Mr.  Allston  rose  from  his  seat,  lighted  a  lamp,  and  went 
out  of  the  room  ;  but  as  he  often  did  this,  we  thought  nothing 
particularly  of  it.    A  minute  or  two  after  this,  as  we  passed 


362 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


through  the  entry  to  go  away,  we  gave  another  look  into  the  par- 
lor, thinking  the  bag  might  possibly  be  there,  and,  on  opening 
the  door,  there  we  saw  Mr.  Allston,  infirm  and  suffering  from 
pain  as  he  was,  stooping  down  and  looking  under  the  sofa  and 
tables  to  search  for  this  bag.  So  secret  did  he  mean  to  be  in  his 
kindness,  that  he  actually  blushed  when  we  entreated  him  not  to 
put  himself  to  so  much  trouble  for  it.  But  for  our  looking  into 
the  room  we  should  never  have  known  that  he  had  searched  for 
the  bag,  had  he  been  unsuccessful.  When,  after  his  death,  we 
remembered  this  incident  of  so  short  a  time  before,  it  was  very 
affecting. 

"  The  fall  after  his  death,  one  day,  a  plain  man,  a  house-car- 
penter in  Cambridgeport,  by  the  name  of  Litchfield,  called  at  my 
office  on  business,  and  after  he  had  got  through  the  business  he 
spoke  of  Mr.  Allston,  and  expressed  extreme  interest  in  the  great 
picture.  Then  he  went  on  as  follows :  '  I  always  set  a  great 
deal  by  that  man.  He  was  a  real  gentleman,  that  man  was.  A 
good  many  sets  up  for  it,  but  there  are  precious  few.  Now, 
Mr.  Allston  was  what  I  call  a  real  gentleman.  I  knew  him 
very  well.  I  lived  next  house  to  him  ten  years,  and  whenever 
I  met  him  he  always  had  something  pleasant  to  say.'  He  then 
told  me  an  anecdote  of  Allston  which,  he  said,  'clinched'  him  in 
his  opinion.  When  the  painting-room  was  building,  this  Litch- 
field was  employed  in  some  way  to  make  an  estimate,  out  of  the 
usual  mode,  for  which  he  thought  he  ought  to  have  been  paid  by 
the  agent.  The  agent  would  not  pay  him,  and  he  abided  by  the 
decision,  yet  he  mentioned  it  to  Mr.  Allston,  knowing  that  he 
was  not  responsible  for  any  of  the  expenses,  but  hoping  that  he 
would  mention  it  to  the  agent.  Mr.  Allston  said  at  once,  '  Mr. 
Litchfield,  you  ought  to  be  paid.  Don't  say  that  I  said  so,  for 
it  is  not  my  business,  and  I  should  not  like  to  hurt  the  feelings 
of  the  agent,  but  you  ought  to  be  paid.'  Litchfield  knew  that 
Allston  did  not  own  the  building,  and  that  he  had  no  money  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


363 


spare,  and  thought  no  more  of  it.  Some  six  or  eight  years  after 
this,  one  evening  Mr.  Allston  sent  for  him  to  come  into  his  room. 
'  He  was  always  polite,'  said  Litchfield,  '  and  he  handed  me  a 
chair.  He  then  brought  to  my  mind  the  matter  of  the  estimate, 
and  said  that  he  had  always  intended  that  I  should  be  paid  for  it ; 
that  he  had  never  forgotten  it,  although  he  had  not  had  it  in  his 
power  to  pay.  He  then  took  out  a  ten-dollar  bill  and  asked  me 
if  that  would  satisfy  me.  I  told  him,  '  Mr.  Allston,  I  can't  take 
so  much.  This  is  more  than  I  ask  for  the  work.'  He  tried  to 
make  me  take  it,  saying  that  I  had  been  out  of  the  money  for 
several  years.  At  last  he  told  me  to  take  the  bill  and  satisfy 
myself  out  of  it.  I  took  it  and  brought  him  back  the  change,  de- 
ducting no  more  than  the  lowest  price  I  could  fix  upon  my  labor. 
Now,  he  was  not  bound  to  pay  me.  He  never  made  the  bargain, 
and  he  told  me  not  to  tell  any  one,  lest  it  should  hurt  the  agent's 
feelings.  I  never  have,  until  since  his  death.'  He  then  expa- 
tiated upon  Mr.  Allston  again,  upon  his  polite  manners  and  kind- 
ness to  all  people,  and  repeated,  1  Yes,  sir ;  that  man  was  a  real 
gentleman ;  I  set  great  store  by  that  man.' 

Following  are  some  of  Allston's  sayings  and  comments,  also 
recorded  by  Mr.  Dana : 

"  Hazlitt  began  by  being  an  artist.  I  once  saw  a  work  of 
his ;  it  was  a  copy  from  Titian,  and  very  well  done.  But  he 
would  not  have  gone  far  beyond  copying,  for  he  was  entirely 
destitute  of  imagination.  He  once  remarked  to  me  that  the 
English  could  have  no  great  historical  painters  because  the  Eng- 
lish face  was  a  poor  one  for  a  model.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  idea  that  there  could  be  any  faces  but  portraits,  and  no  idea 
of  the  art  beyond  its  mimetic  character.  In  the  article  which 
he  furnished  for  the  '  Encyclopedie  Metropolitaine '  he  argues 
against  the  ideal  in  the  art — against  the  liberty  of  the  artist  in 


364 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


making  use  of  the  ideal ;  and  supports  himself  by  appealing  to 
Raphael.  Now  this  was  the  very  point  in  which  Raphael  failed 
— in  which  he  was  inferior  to  Michael  Angelo." 

"  Lawrence  had  the  bravura  touch  of  the  pencil — slap-dash — 
which  always  takes  with  novices.  I  was  once  at  Mr.  Anger- 
stein's  gallery  with  "Walker  and  a  young  artist  of  genius  who  was 
much  taken  by  a  portrait  of  Angerstein  by  Lawrence.  In  the 
next  room  was  a  portrait  by  Vandyke,  and  a  masterpiece.  We 
were  expressing  our  admiration  of  it  when  our  young  friend 
said : 

"  '  Yes,  but  I  confess  I  like  Sir  Thomas  better.' 

"  '  Do  you,  sir  ?  '  said  Walker.  ' Indeed !  Well,  sir,  you 
won't  think  so  long.'    And  he  was  right. 

' '  There  is  something  technically  called  '  handling,'  which  in- 
variably surprises  and  delights  the  novice,  but  which  is  easily 
gotten  and  soon  palls.  A  great  picture  has  a  simplicity  about 
it,  and  is  so  true  to  reality  that  it  seldom  dazzles  and  surprises." 

"  The  finest  head  I  ever  painted,  and  for  effect  the  best  thing 
I  ever  did,  or  ever  expect  to  do,  was  the  agony  of  Judas,  which  I 
painted  in  Bristol,  England.  I  showed  it  to  a  few  friends  who 
said  that  its  effect  upon  them  was  as  dreadful  as  it  was  upon 
me  ;  but  I  destroyed  it  in  a  few  days,  and  for  reasons  which  per- 
haps I  could  not  make  others  understand  as  I  felt  them.  It  was 
not  merely  the  distress  I  felt  at  looking  on  it,  for  I  might  have 
disposed  of  it  and  never  seen  it  again,  but  I  could  not  endure 
the  thought  of  deriving  an  intellectual  gratification  or  profes- 
sional reputation  and  pleasure  from  what  I  believed  to  be  so 
dreadful  a  reality." 

"  While  I  was  in  Florence  I  saw  in  a  dream  a  female  whom  I 
may  call  perfectly  beautiful.  In  form,  feature,  expression,  and 
dress  she  was  more  perfect  than  anything  that  my  highest  im- 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


365 


agination  had  ever  conceived.  Nothing  in  ancient  or  modern 
art  is  an  approach  to  it,  and  if  I  could  have  painted  her  with 
half  her  effect  I  should  have  painted  the  most  beautiful  object 
in  the  art.  For  several  days  afterward  I  was  in  a  state  of  quiet, 
ethereal  exaltation ;  I  felt  in  whatever  I  was  about  that  some- 
thing peculiar  had  occurred  to  me,  and  could  hardly  realize  that 
I  was  to  act  and  be  treated  like  other  people.  The  vision,  or 
perhaps  the  consciousness  of  something  having  occurred  to  me 
haunted  me  for  months.  It  was  a  long  time  before  I  became 
fully  awake  on  that  subject." 

"  I  saw  Madame  de  Stael  at  the  illumination  of  St.  Peter's. 
She  had  a  beautiful  hand  and  arm,  and  displayed  them  to  great 
advantage  by  waving  a  wreath  which  she  held  in  her  hand,  but 
a  face  like  a  figure-head — coarse  features  and  a  vulgar  mouth." 

"  Goethe  must  be  a  great  man  to  carry  so  many  great  minds 
with  him  ;  but  he  certainly  knows  nothing  of  my  art.  He  does 
not  enter  into  the  philosophy  of  it.  He  knows  neither  its  height 
nor  its  depth.  His  notions  are  jejune  and  those  oi  a  mechanic  ; 
and  even  in  the  mechanical  part  he  is  for  the  most  part  false. 
He  begins  a  paragraph  as  though  he  was  going  to  lead  his 
reader  to  some  great  truth,  and  when  he  has  got  him  down  to 
the  middle  of  the  well,  he  leaves  him." 

"  Too  much  stress  cannot  be  laid  upon  the  conformity  of  art 
to  nature,  but  it  should  be  remembered  that  nature  is  only  the 
artist's  starting-point." 

"  Eembrandt  was  the  Dry  den  of  the  art." 

"  I  have  been  more  affected  by  music  than  I  have  ever  been 
by  either  painting  or  poetry." 

"Pere  la  Chaise,  at  Paris,  which  you  hear  so  much  talked 
about,  is  the  most  finical  baby-house  that  you  can  imagine. 


366 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Mount  Auburn  is  much  more  beautiful  by  nature,  and  less 
spoiled  by  bad  taste  in  art." 

"  I  never  could  feel  that  Canova  had  genius.  The  artists 
were  doubting  his  genius  twenty  years  ago  in  Italy,  and  now 
few  artists  call  him  a  man  of  genius,  though  he  has  great  value 
with  the  public." 

"  Titian  was  poetical  in  color,  and  perhaps  it  is  the  only  way 
in  which  he  was  poetical.  Yet  no  one  can  be  truer  in  objects  of 
the  senses  than  Titian.  Tintoretto,  however,  sometimes  made 
higher  poetic  nights  in  color  than  his  master,  though  he  did  not 
seem  to  know  it." 

"  Eaphael  was  in  painting  what  I  take  Mozart  to  have  been 
in  music.  He  was  the  painter  of  the  affections.  He  had  not 
the  genius  of  Angelo,  yet  he  will  always  have  the  sympathies 
of  mankind  with  him.  The  creatures  of  Michael  Angelo  are 
often  superhuman,  the  results  of  a  glorious  imagination  ;  but  the 
creatures  of  Eaphael,  beautiful  as  they  are,  have  always  a  father 
and  a  mother." 

"  I  never  met  with  a  French  artist  who  had  a  sense  of  the 
sublime.  One  of  them  denned  the  sublime  to  me  as  the  Tres 
bien.  I  never  saw  a  French  painting  that  reached  my  higher 
nature.  I  have  seen  many  such  from  the  Italian,  German, 
Dutch,  Spanish,  and  English,  but  never  from  the  French." 

"  Coleridge  told  me  that  he  could  introduce  me  to  the  ac- 
quaintance of  nearly  all  the  authors  in  London,  but  he  would 
not  do  it,  for  he  would  be  sorry  to  have  me  know  them.  He 
told  me  seriously  that  he  did  not  know  so  entirely  worthless  and 
despicable  a  set  of  men  as  the  authors  by  profession  in  London, 
and  warned  me  solemnly  to  avoid  any  intercourse  with  them." 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


367 


"  I  know  the  faults  of  my  country,  and  there  are  few  Ameri- 
cans who  feel  them  more  than  I  do,  or  have  less  confidence  in 
our  form  of  government,  but  I  cannot  endure  to  hear  my  coun- 
try abused  by  a  foreigner.  It  makes  my  blood  boil.  If  I  were 
a  fighting  man  I  could  challenge  him  for  it  in  an  instant.  I  will 
agree  with  him  in  his  reasoning  upon  general  principles  of  poli- 
tics, but  he  must  not  be  personal." 

Here  are  some  lines  that  Mr.  Dana  preserved,  written  by  All- 
ston  on  an  old  pair  of  bellows  : 

"  Where'er  I  roam,  whatever  fires  I  see, 
My  heart,  untravelled,  still  returns  to  thee, 

My  own  dear  bellows  ! 
For  gentle  puff  or  energetic  blast 
At  crackling  wood  or  sputtering  coal  thou  hast 
Nowhere  thy  fellows !  " 


CHAPTEE  XXIX. 


LETTERS  ON  ALLSTON*  TO  R.  H.  DANA,  SR.,  FROM  WORDSWORTH; 
WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT ;  C.  R.  LESLIE,  R.A.  J  W.  F.  COLLARD  ; 
WILLIAM  COLLINS,  R.A.  ;  PROFESSOR  HENRY  REED  ;  COLONEL 
WILLIAM  DRAYTON  J  W.  Y.  DEARBORN  ;  CHARLES  FRAZER,  AND 
JOSHUA  H.  HAYWARD. 

We  give  in  this  chapter  evidences  from  distinguished  men  of 
the  profound  impression  Allston  made  upon  them.  These  evi- 
dences form  a  peculiar  tribute ;  they  are  spontaneous  attesta- 
tions of  kindred  souls  to  the  purity  and  grace  of  his  character. 
Twenty-five  years  had  passed  since  he  took  leave  of  his  friends 
in  England  and  sailed  for  America.  He  never  saw  them  again,  he 
seldom  wrote,  his  correspondence  with  them  ceased  long  before 
his  death.  And  yet  after  a  quarter  of  a  century  of  separation 
he  was  still  in  their  memories  and  in  their  hearts.  This  is  not 
a  common  testimony.  There  are  not  many  who  thus  command 
the  tears  of  friendship  to  bridge  a  chasm  of  so  many  years — to 
cross  an  ocean  of  time,  and  waters,  with  loving  tributes.  But 
our  purpose  is  to  let  the  letters  of  friends  speak  his  praise. 
Those  which  follow  were  addressed,  except  where  otherwise 
specified,  to  E.  H.  Dana,  Sr. 

From  Longfellow. 

"  Cambridge,  March  13,  1847. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  enclose  you  a  few  tributary  lines,  which  I 
found  in  an  out-of-the-way  place,  namely,  Southey's  1  Vision  of 
Judgment,'  and  which  peradventure  you  may  have  forgotten. 
"  Faithfully  yours, 

"Henry  W.  Longfellow." 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


369 


" .    .    .    he  who,  returning 
Eich  in  praise  to  his  native  shores,  hath  left  a  remembrance 
Long  to  be  honour'd  and  loved  on  the  banks  of  Thames  and  of  Tiber : 
So  may  America,  prizing  in  time  the  worth  she  possesses, 
Give  to  that  hand  free  scope,  and  boast  hereafter  of  Allston." 

From  Wordsivorth. 

"  I  had  heard  much  of  Mr.  Allston  from  Mr.  Coleridge,  and  I 
should  have  thought  it  a  high  privilege  to  cultivate  his  friend- 
ship had  opportunity  allowed.  Mr.  Coleridge  had  lived  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  him  at  Rome  ;  they  returned  from  Italy  about 
the  same  time,  and  it  was  in  London,  there  only,  that  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Allston  at  his  own  lodgings.  He 
was  well  known,  both  through  Coleridge  and  his  own  genius,  to 
one  of  my  most  intimate  friends,  Sir  George  Beaumont,  who 
always  passed  the  spring  season  in  London.  Coleridge  and  he 
took  great  delight  in  referring  to  Mr.  Allston's  observations 
upon  art  and  the  works  of  the  great  masters  they  had  seen  to- 
gether in  Rome,  and  the  admiration  was  no  doubt  mutual  from 
the  commencement  of  their  acquaintance. 

"  By  such  reports  of  his  conversation  and  corresponding  ac- 
counts of  his  noble  qualities  of  heart  and  temper,  I  was  led  to 
admire,  and  with  truth  I  may  say  to  love,  Mr.  Allston,  before  I 
had  seen  him  or  any  of  his  works.  But  opportunities  did  not 
favor  me.  His  short  stay  in  London  occasioned  me  much  re- 
gret, less  on  account  of  being  cut  off  from  his  society  (though 
to  that  I  was  anything  but  indifferent)  than  that  I  felt  strongly 
that  his  works  would  surely  be  duly  appreciated  in  England. 

"  His  own  country  had  a  strong  claim  upon  his  talents,  as  it 
had  upon  his  affections  ;  nevertheless  carefully  as  he  had  ob- 
served the  works  of  the  old  masters,  and  deeply  as  he  had  stud- 
ied them,  and  vivid  as  were  his  impressions  of  their  excellence, 
I  could  not  but  entertain  some  fear,  that  when  by  residence  in 

America  he  was  removed  from  the  sight  of  them,  his  genius, 
24 


370 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


great  as  it  was,  might  suffer,  and  his  works  fall  more  or  less  into 
mannerism.  For  my  part  there  was  such  high  promise  in  the 
few  works  of  his  pencil  which  I  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing, 
that  they  stood  high  in  my  estimation,  much  above  any  artist  of 
his  day.  They  indicated  a  decided  power  of  higher  conceptions, 
and  his  skill  in  dealing  with  the  material  of  art  struck  me  as  far 
beyond  that  of  any  other  painter  of  his  time.  It  was  truly  as 
Coleridge  used  to  say,  1  coloring,  and  not  color.' 

"  Since  Mr.  Allston  went  back  home  I  have  had  short  letters 
from  him  frequently,  introducing  his  American  acquaintances ; 
and  friendly  messages  have  often  passed  between  us,  which  I  am 
certain  were  mutually  acceptable.  Your  account  of  his  last  mo- 
ments affected  me  deeply.  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  it.  Much 
do  I  regret  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  dwell  more  upon  par- 
ticulars, but  after  such  a  lapse  of  time  I  could  not  venture  to 
attempt  it,  and  I  beg  of  you  to  take  in  good  part  the  scanty 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  a  great  man  whom  I  highly  honored. 

"  Sincerely  yours, 

"William  Wordsworth. 

"  Rydal  Mount,  Ambleside,  October,  1843." 

From  William  Cullen  Bryant 

"  New  York,  August  4,  1843. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  would  have  answered  your  letter  earlier 
if  I  had  known  what  to  say.  All  the  circumstances  which  made 
the  death  of  Allston  a  happy  one,  seem  to  increase  the  weight 
of  his  loss  to  his  friends.  Even  the  general  sorrow  with  which 
he  is  mourned,  and  the  honors  paid  to  his  memory,  but  remind 
them  how  great  is  that  loss.  I  suppose  that  the  only  method  of 
consolation  is  to  fix  the  mind  upon  what  death  has  been  to  him, 
rather  than  what  it  is  to  those  whom  he  has  left. 

"  For  my  part,  I  think  of  him  as  one  who,  without  the  usual 
approach  of  pain  and  decay,  was  taken  by  the  gentlest  transition 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


371 


into  that  better  world,  the  light  of  which  was  always  about  him, 
and  to  which  he  seemed  to  belong  rather  than  this.  Do  you  re- 
member the  pilgrims  in  Bunyan's  narrative,  who,  in  passing  over 
the  dark  river  to  the  glorious  land  beyond,  seemed  scarcely  to 
dip  their  feet  in  the  waters  ? 

"  Weir,  who  has  just  put  the  last  hand  to  his  picture  of  the 
'  Embarkation  of  the  Pilgrims,'  on  which  he  has  earnestly  been 
engaged  for  years,  is  a  man  of  great  simplicity  of  character  and 
depth  of  feeling.  1  It  was  encouragement  to  me  during  my  long 
labors,'  said  he  to  me,  last  week,  '  that  when  they  should  be  fin- 
ished, Allston  would  see  what  I  had  done.  I  thought  of  it  al- 
most every  day  while  I  was  at  work.'  Such  was  the  confidence 
with  which  the  artists  looked  up  to  his  true  and  friendly  judg- 
ment, and  so  sure  were  they  that  what  they  had  done  well  would 
give  him  pleasure. 

"  I  hope  you  will  admit  that  it  is  something  to  the  credit  of 
the  country  and  the  age  that  it  can  discern  the  worth  of  such  a 
man  as  Allston,  and  can  grieve  that  so  bright  an  example  both  in 
life  and  out  had  been  taken  from  our  midst. 

"  Yours  faithfully, 

"William  Cullen  Bryant." 

From  C.  R.  Leslie,  R.A. 

"  As  from  what  you  have  told  me  of  our  lamented  Allston  it 
was  evident  to  many  of  his  friends  that  his  life  was  near  its 
close,  it  is  a  great  happiness  to  me  to  know  that  he  was  spared 
the  sufferings  of  a  sick-bed.  I  had  a  letter  from  him  in  October 
last,  telling  me  of  the  long  illness  which  had  confined  him  to  his 
chamber  for  the  greater  part  of  the  preceding  winter,  and  this 
with  my  previous  knowledge  of  the  delicacy  of  his  constitution 
had  somewhat  prepared  me  to  expect  the  sad  intelligence  of  the 
last  month.    He  was  one  of  a  very  few  excellent  persons  I  have 


372 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


known  in  the  course  of  my  life,  whose  rare  endowments  have 
rendered  it  next  to  impossible  that  I  should  '  ever  look  upon  his 
like  again.' 

"  My  obligations  to  Allston  are  very  great,  and  now,  that  he 
is  gone,  they  seem  greater  than  ever.  I  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  become  acquainted  with  him  at  the  most  critical  period  of  my 
life,  when,  above  all  things,  I  wanted  a  safe  guide  to  help  me  to 
distinguish  truth  from  falsehood,  not  only  in  art  but  in  matters 
of  far  higher  moment.  That  I  derived  less  benefit  than  I  might 
have  done  from  my  intercourse  with  so  rare  a  man  as  Allston, 
was  my  own  fault.  Indeed,  I  was  far  from  estimating  his  full 
value,  for  I  could  not  know,  when  I  was  but  on  the  threshold  of 
the  world,  how  unlikely  it  was  that  I  should  ever  meet  again  with 
equal  purity  of  mind  combined  with  equal  purity  of  taste." 

From  Collard  to  Leslie. 

"  My  Deae  Sik  :  Your  letter  confirming  the  melancholy  event 
of  our  friend  Allston's  death,  and  of  which  I  had  previously 
seen  an  account,  with  deep  regret,  in  the  public  papers,  has 
been  forwarded  to  me.  So  many  of  the  friends  of  my  youth 
have  passed  away  from  me  by  distance  and  death  that  I  begin 
to  feel  like  one  of  another  epoch  who  has  outlived  his  proper 
age,  and  who  wanders  about  among  a  race  whose  sympathies  be- 
long not  to  him  but  to  a  new  generation.  After  Allston  left 
England  we  exchanged  a  few  letters,  and  I  was  constantly  ex- 
pecting that  he  would  give  me  detailed  accounts  of  the  progress 
of  his  labors ;  but  this  he  delayed  to  do,  and  our  correspondence 
ceased.  Every  opportunity  I  have  had  since  of  inquiring  after 
him  among  any  of  his  countrymen  whom  I  happened  to  meet  I 
made  use  of ;  but,  strange  to  say,  to  this  hour  I  am  ignorant  of 
the  nature  or  success  of  his  efforts  after  he  left  this  country. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


373 


"  The  gentle  disposition,  the  love  of  quietly  indulging  in  his 
own  imagination,  and  the  simple  retiring  habits  of  our  excellent 
friend  prevented  his  mingling  much  in  the  stirring  scenes  of  life, 
so  that  his  greatest  enjoyments  were  found  in  his  own  studies 
and  in  the  society  of  a  few  friends.  I  now  see  him,  with  a  cigar 
in  his  hand,  sitting  in  an  easy-chair,  and  luxuriating  in  some 
interesting  subject  of  conversation,  or  projecting  designs  which 
it  would  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  find  he  had  carried  into 
successful  execution. 

"  I  have  often  regretted  the  interruption  of  our  correspond- 
ence, and  now  regret  it  more  than  ever,  for  I  always  had  a  latent 
feeling  that  we  should  meet  again  and  live  over  some  of  the 
pleasant  hours  of  our  youth.  That  hope,  however,  like  most  of 
those  we  fondly  form,  is  now  past,  leaving  its  place  unhappily 
supplied  with  unavailing  sorrow. 

"  Believe  me  faithfully  yours, 

"W.  F.  Collakd." 

From  William  Collins,  R.A. 

"London,  September  6,  1843. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  for  your  kind  and 
interesting  letter,  for  although  I  had  heard  of  the  sudden  death 
of  our  dear  friend,  I  had  been  informed  of  few  particulars,  and 
the  intelligence  of  his  peaceful  departure  and  the  happy  state  of 
his  mind,  evinced  in  his  conversation  with  your  daughter  so  short 
a  time  before  he  1  fell  asleep,'  is  to  me,  as  it  must  be  to  all  who 
loved  him  as  I  did,  most  gratifying. 

"I  shall  have  a  melancholy  satisfaction  in  telling  you  all  I 
can  recollect  of  the  happy  and  uninterrupted  intercourse  I  en- 
joyed during  the  few  years  I  was  honored  by  the  confiding  friend- 
ship of  one  of  the  best  of  men.  My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  All- 
ston  began  in  1814 ;  I  was  introduced  to  him  by  my  friend 


374 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


Leslie,  and  from  this  moment,  until  he  left  England  for  America 
I  saw  more  of  him  than  almost  any  other  friend  I  had.  Every 
time  I  was  in  his  company  my  admiration  of  his  character  and 
my  high  estimation  of  his  mind  and  acquirements,  as  well  as  of 
his  great  genius  as  a  painter,  increased,  and  the  affectionate  kind- 
ness he  showed  toward  my  mother  and  brother  upon  his  fre- 
quent visits  to  our  abode,  so  completely  cemented  the  bond  of 
union  that  I  always  considered  him  as  one  of  the  family.  Alas  ! 
that  family,  with  the  exception  of  your  correspondent,  are  now 
no  more  seen.  It  is  a  source  of  great  comfort  to  me  to  know  that 
although  we  were  for  so  many  years  separated  by  the  Atlantic, 
he  yet  sometimes  spoke  of  me,  and  especially  that  so  short  a  time 
before  his  death  he  had  me  in  his  mind. 

"  Very  shortly  before  the  sad  news  arrived  in  England  I  had 
fully  intended  to  write  to  my  friend  to  thank  him  for  the  beauti- 
ful and  interesting  story  of  '  Monaldi,'  which  he  had  so  recently 
sent  me,  making  the  inscription  in  his  own  handwriting  an  ex- 
cuse for  sending  him  a  long  letter.  We  had  both  been  wretched 
correspondents.  His  name,  however,  was  always  before  me,  for 
in  my  high  estimation  of  his  character  I  had,  by  proxy,  fifteen 
years  ago,  ventured  to  connect  him  with  my  family  as  godfather 
to  my  second  son,  who  has  been  christened  Charles  Allston,  and 
it  is  perhaps  not  unworthy  of  remark  that  he,  having  been  left 
entirely  to  his  own  choice  as  regards  a  profession,  has  determined 
to  follow  that  of  painting,  and  is  now  carrying  on  his  studies  at 
the  Eoyal  Academy.  I  desire  no  better  thing  for  him  than  that 
he  may  follow  the  example  of  his  namesake,  both  as  a  painter 
and  as  a  man." 

From  Professor  Henry  Reed. 

"  Philadelphia,  July  23,  1843. 
"  My  Dear  Sir  :  You  will  not,  I  hope,  regard  it  as  an  intru- 
sion or  an  impertience  if  I  venture  to  write  you  a  few  lines  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


375 


express  the  sincere  sorrow  with  which  I  heard  of  the  death  of 
your  eminent  relative,  Mr.  Allston.  Having  long  been  in  the 
habit  of  regarding  him  as  in  the  front  rank  of  his  high  vocation, 
I  had  it  greatly  at  heart,  when  on  a  visit  to  Boston  last  summer, 
to  gain  the  privilege  of  personal  converse  with  him.  The  intro- 
duction by  a  friend,  and  the  cordial  courtesy  with  which  Mr. 
Allston  welcomed  those  who  sought  his  society,  removed  from 
my  mind  all  apprehensions  of  trespassing  upon  him,  and  ena- 
bled me  to  spend  some  four  or  five  hours  in  his  company  at  his 
house.  This  brief  space  of  time  has  left  a  deep  impression.  I 
need  not  say  how  much  there  was  of  that  instinctive  politeness, 
which,  for  what  he  had  reason  to  suppose  would  be  the  gratifi- 
cation of  his  visitor,  gave  a  direction  to  the  conversation  in  his 
recollections  of  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  Lamb.  That  these 
were  full  of  interest  to  me  you  can  well  believe,  but  I  do  not 
know  how  to  describe  to  you  the  feelings  I  found  myself  pos- 
sessed of  when  I  parted  with  him.  The  deepest  of  these  feelings, 
as  I  come  to  reflect  on  them,  was  the  sense  of  admiration  and 
reverence  for  the  gentleness  and  purity  of  his  genius,  character- 
istics that  had  been  unconsciously  and  unaffectedly  manifesting 
themselves,  in  various  indescribable  ways,  in  all  that  he  said  of 
his  fellow-men,  of  his  fellow-poets,  and  fellow-artists. 

"  I  have  treasured  from  that  evening's  interview  my  best  be- 
lief of  the  placid  magnanimity  of  a  great  and  good  man.  Doubt- 
less the  height  of  his  conceptions  in  art  was  owing,  not  to  the 
native  power  of  his  genius  alone,  but  to  that  moral  culture  which 
saved  them  from  being  depressed  by  the  unworthy  passions,  the 
littleness  and  meanness  which  sometimes  embitter  and  disfigure 
the  artist's  life.  He  appeared  to  be  endowed  with  a  power,  the 
very  virtue  of  purity,  of  not  suffering  such  things  to  touch  him, 
and  not  only  this,  but  to  have  no  sight  for  them  in  minds  less 
happily  constituted.  Earth  loses  more  than  we  can  estimate 
when  such  a  spirit  is  called  away." 


376 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


From  Colonel  Wm,.  Drayton. 

"Philadelphia,  October,  1843. 
"  I  sincerely  sympathize  with  you  in  the  death  of  Mr.  Allston, 
to  be  deplored  as  a  public  and  private  loss.  His  brilliant  talents 
reflected  honor  upon  his  country,  and  what  constitutes  a  rare 
union  with  so  bright  an  order  of  intellect,  he  possessed  a  sweet- 
ness of  temper,  a  mildness  of  manner,  and  fascinating  power  of 
conversation  which  delighted  all  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
social  intercourse  with  him,  and  must  have  bound  to  him  by  the 
most  endearing  ties  the  favored  few  who  were  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  intimacy  and  friendship. 

"  I  am,  with  great  respect,  your  obedient  servant, 

"Wm.  Drayton." 

From  W.  Y.  Dearborn. 

"  Hawthorn  Cottage,  Roxbury,  September  28,  1844. 
"Most  happy  am  I  to  learn  that  I  was  favorably  remembered 
by  Mr.  Allston,  for  he  was  a  gentleman  whom  it  was  necessary  to 
have  known  to  be  duly  capable  of  appreciating  his  character,  as 
a  man  and  an  artist.  From  1819  down  to  about  the  year  1829 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  often ;  but  subsequent  to  that 
period  a  tempest  passed  over  me  and  most  unfortunately  I  was 
not  in  a  condition  to  continue  that  most  agreeable  intimacy  of 
acquaintance  which  had  so  long  and  happily  subsisted,  and  was 
so  precious  in  my  estimation.  The  delightful  years  passed  in  his 
society  rise  up  in  my  memory  like  verdant  and  sunny  glades  in 
the  great  desert  of  life,  and  although  for  many  years  I  saw  him 
not,  still  I  constantly  watched  his  progress  with  intense  solici- 
tude and  the  deepest  interest,  and  felt  how  much  I  lost,  while  I 
rejoiced  in  that  richly  merited  renown  which  was  rapidly  ex- 
tending. 

"  Mr.  Allston  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  I  ever 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


377 


knew.  With  a  mind  of  the  very  first  order,  a  brilliant  imagina- 
tion, a  genius  so  universal  and  comprehensive  in  its  scope,  and 
talents  of  such  diversified  excellence,  that  he  was  as  distinguished 
for  intellectual  attainments  in  science  and  letters  as  for  his  re- 
fined taste  and  extensive  knowledge  in  the  exalted  arts  of  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  and  architecture. 

"  In  conversation  he  was  one  of  the  most  interesting,  instruc- 
tive, and  eloquent  men  I  ever  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet.  As 
a  gentleman,  it  is  rare  indeed  that  in  the  whole  course  of  our 
lives  we  find  an  individual  in  whom  all  the  high  qualities  of  mind, 
heart,  and  manners  are  so  harmoniously  and  admirably  combined 
as  they  were  in  him.  There  was  a  rectitude  of  principle,  a  re- 
finement of  sentiment,  a  lifting  of  spirit,  and  a  moral  grandeur  of 
character,  united  in  him,  which  commanded  the  honor  and  esteem 
of  all  who  knew  him.  I  hope  the  period  is  not  distant  when  a 
whole  people  will  be  emulous  to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  a 
man  who  did  so  much  to  elevate  the  glory  of  their  country. 

"  Your  most  obedient  servant, 

"W.  Y.  Dearborn." 

From  Charles  Fraser. 

"We  know  Allston's  qualities  and  honor  his  memory.  I 
hope  that  his  fame  may  ever  be  such  as  his  genius  and  attain- 
ments justly  entitle  him  to.  His  was  a  life  of  thought,  feeling, 
sentiment,  rather  than  action.  All  his  views  were  philosophical. 
He  considered  art  but  the  reflex  of  nature  in  her  moral  and  in- 
tellectual workings,  and  valued  its  productions  only  as  they  ex- 
emplified and  embodied  her  mysterious  and  inscrutable  im- 
pulses. Hence  character — character,  was  his  constant  aim.  If 
he  labored  on  a  picture,  it  was  not  to  attract  notice  to  the  work, 
but  to  make  it  more  expressive  of  his  design.  If  he  employed 
art  (and  who  could  do  it  more  successfully  ?)  it  was  only  to  make 
it  forgotten  in  its  triumphs. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


"His  mind  was  so  sensitively  alive  to  external  influences, 
and  his  heart  so  susceptible  of  kind  and  gentle  impressions,  his 
philanthropy  so  comprehensive,  and  his  friendships  so  discrim- 
inating— his  whole  manner  so  bland  and  benignant  that  to  do 
justice  to  these  traits  and  to  give  each  its  proper  shade  one  must 
be  a  congenial  spirit. '  Few,  if  any,  of  the  artists  of  the  pres- 
ent age  unite  so  much  practical  excellence  with  such  profound 
science  as  he  did.  I  never  left  his  society  without  feeling  im- 
proved. There  was  a  moral  elevation  in  his  character  and  con- 
versation in  perfect  keeping  with  his  eminence  as  an  artist." 

From  Joshua  H.  Hay  ward. 

"His  conversations  were  of  such  a  character  that  to  recall 
them  would  be  like  recalling  the  impressions  made  by  some 
beautiful  scenery  in  Nature  where  the  grand  outline  and  general 
effect  remain,  but  the  detail  is  lost.  I  cannot  remember  a  single 
saying  of  his,  and  yet  all  his  words,  could  they  have  been  taken 
down,  as  they  were  uttered,  would  have  been  worth  recording. 
The  fact  is,  he  never  aimed  at  wit,  sarcasm,  or  smartness  ;  nor 
did  he,  like  the  late  Mr.  Stuart,  ever  deal  in  those  epigrammat- 
ic remarks  that  were  remembered  rather  from  the  bitterness  of 
their  sting  than  from  their  justice  or  truth.  His  conversations 
were  humorous,  didactic,  or  of  a  serious  cast. 

"  He  delighted,  as  you  well  know,  in  anecdote,  and  was  as 
fond  of  listening  to  as  of  telling  stories.  When  one  was  told 
he  always  seemed  to  have  its  companion  ready,  and  was  so  re- 
markable in  this  last  respect  that  I  have  no  doubt  he  not  infre- 
quently drew  upon  his  inventive  faculty  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment. I  never  heard  him  speak  harshly  of  any  human  being. 
He  has  sometimes  complained  of  ingratitude  in  some,  who,  re- 
ceiving only  favors  from  him  had  attempted  to  injure  him,  but 
this  he  did  in  sorrow  rather  than  anger. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


379 


"  He  was  remarkably  free  from  suspicion.  I  recollect  saying 
to  him,  when  about  to  open  '  Jeremiah  '  for  exhibition  :  '  What 
is  to  prevent  your  being  imposed  upon  by  the  doorkeeper  as  to 
the  receipts  ? '  '  Nothing,'  he  replied,  '  unless  I  should  be  lucky 
enough  to  find  an  honest  man.'  He  evidently  had  studied  at  all 
the  schools,  but  was  an  imitator  of  none.  His  style  was  his  own, 
and  his  inspiration  from  a  higher  source.  If  he  had  less  vigor 
than  the  old  masters,  he  had  far  more  sweetness  and  delicacy ; 
he  scorned  the  tricks  and  traps  of  art,  and  chose  to  win  by  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  heart  rather  than  the  eye.  He  was,  if  I 
may  say  so,  the  Dante  of  painters  ;  his  impersonations  breathed 
more  of  heaven  than  earth.  Perhaps  he  resembled  Correggio 
more  than  any  other  of  the  ancients  in  his  general  manner.  And 
yet,  had  he  been  called  upon  to  paint  the  same  subjects,  he 
would  have  given  us  Madonnas  equally  beautiful,  but  far  less 
sensual. 

"  His  talent,  too,  was  more  varied  than  that  of  most  of  the 
old  masters.  Portrait,  landscape,  cabinet,  and  humorous  sub- 
jects seemed  equally  under  his  control  with  history ;  and  he 
had  only  to  choose  on  which  to  exercise  his  talent  to  produce  a 
masterpiece  of  the  kind.  He  was  remarkably  fond  of  conversing 
upon  art — its  principles,  objects,  and  means  to  be  used  to  attain 
ic.  And  these  conversations  were  of  such  a  nature  as  to  produce 
as  strong  an  impression  of  his  knowledge  and  power  as  was  ex- 
perienced when  viewing  the  greatest  works  of  his  hand. 

"  He  was  invariably  kind  to  young  artists.  He  loved  to 
instruct  them.  No  one,  I  believe,  ever  asked  his  advice  with- 
out receiving  it,  and  in  such  a  way  as  to  produce  a  lasting  and 
grateful  impression.  He  could  criticise  without  offending,  for 
amidst  faults  he  would  find  some  beauties.  He  seemed  always 
to  wish  to  impart  knowledge,  rather  than  to  make  a  display  of 
it.  When  opportunity  presented  he  would  take  the  crayon  and 
correct  the  drawing  of  a  picture,  and  not  long  since,  happening 


380 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


to  ask  his  advice  as  to  the  best  color  for  the  background  of  a 
portrait  I  was  then  painting,  he  took  the  palette  and  painted 
the  whole  background  himself,  merely  saying  as  he  finished, 
'  There,  I  would  give  it  some  such  color  as  that.'  It  is  needless 
to  add  that  the  background  remains  just  as  he  left  it. 

"  As  an  artist  I  consider  Allston  one  of  the  greatest  of  this 
or  any  age.  He  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree  a  feeling  for  the 
true  and  beautiful,  and  the  art  so  to  embody  them  as  to  produce 
a  corresponding  feeling  in  others." 

From  an  Unknown  American  Artist  (Extract). 

**  Freywalden,  Austrian  Silesia,  September  23,  1844. 

"  Were  I  in  Italy  I  might  obtain  some  details  for  you  from 
the  brothers  Eiepenhausen,  who  occupy  a  prominent  position  in 
the  German  school,  both  as  painters  and  as  writers  on  art.  I  am 
not  personally  acquainted  with  them,  but  know  that  Allston  was 
well  known  to  them,  and  that  they  still  possess  a  work  of  his 
hand. 

"  If  Mr.  Leslie  would  consult  Mr.  Severn,  who  knew  Allston 
when  in  London,  and  who  was  afterward  intimate  with  his 
German  friends  in  Italy,  he  could  scarce  fail  to  get  valuable 
information  on  the  subject  that  interests  you.  I  am  the  more 
certain  of  this  as  I  had  a  long  conversation  about  Allston  at  Mr. 
Severn's  house  in  London  a  year  since,  and  he  spoke  of  Allston's 
influence  on  the  German  school  as  a  thing  well  known  to  him. 
Many  persons  conversant  with  art  have  been  surprised  that  All- 
ston's labors  should  have  been  so  imperfectly  known,  so  partially 
appreciated.  Allston  was  an  Idealist,  and  as  the  Ideal  is  a  crit- 
icism of  the  Actual,  he  shared  the  fate  of  those  who,  in  whatever 
branch  of  culture,  rise  where  the  mass  cannot  follow.  From  the 
landscape  to  the  embodying  of  the  highest  religion,  Allston's 


The  Sibyl  Outline  in  Chalk. 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


3S1 


pictures  were  lofty,  noble  poetry.  He  owed  the  sympathy  he 
won  rather  to  the  sweetness  of  his  language  than  to  his  thought, 
rather  to  his  vehicle  than  his  substance.  I  believe  that  his  in- 
fluence would  have  been  much  greater  could  his  works  have  stood 
before  the  body  of  the  people  in  the  interior.  I  know  how  neces- 
sary is  a  certain  familiarity  with  the  language  of  art  to  a  full  ap- 
preciation of  the  artist,  but  the  wants  of  the  country-folk  in  this 
respect  are  more  than  balanced  by  their  freedom  from  the  cant, 
the  false  taste,  and  the  frivolity  of  self-sufficient  society.  In 
England  we  have  seen  portrait-painting  constantly  lead  to  the 
highest  honors  in  the  gift  of  Government.  After  portraiture 
come  the  illustration  of  the  literature  in  vogue  and  the  various 
ornamental  branches  of  painting. 

"  High  art  leads  straight  to  debt  and  jail.  We  are  told  that 
the  Barry  Haydonites  were  men  of  bad  temper  and  exorbitant 
pretensions,  and  this  they  say  was  the  cause  of  their  ruin.  What 
pride  of  English  painter  ever  approached  that  of  Michael  Angelo, 
who,  at  a  harsh  word  from  the  Pope,  turned  his  back  on  the  man, 
and  that,  too,  in  the  palmy  days  of  popedom  ?  In  America  we 
have  seen  Copley,  Stuart,  and  Trumbull  absorb  a  large  portion 
of  the  public  attention  and  large  sums  of  money.  Thus  far  these 
facts  are  a  command  to  quit  the  paths  of  high  art  and  to  orna- 
ment and  amuse  society. 

ii  There  is  a  battle,  then — there  is  a  battle  between  what  is 
and  what  might  be,  between  poetry  and  fact,  between  the  pas- 
sions and  the  tastes  of  the  day  and  the  eternal  beauty  of  nature. 
Napoleon's  feeling  toward  what  he  called  the  1  Ideologic/  John- 
son's feeling  toward  Milton,  this  is  the  feeling  with  which  practi- 
cal social  life  listens  to  the  voice  of  genius.  The  conclusion  is 
not  very  original.  The  battle  is  not  merely  in  art,  God  knows. 
It  is  everywhere.  Allston  is  the  head,  the  chief,  the  Adam  of 
American  Idealists.  He  is  the  first  of  that  noble  Spartan  band, 
sure  to  fall  because  the  hosts  of  the  Persian  are  overwhelming, 


382 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


but  sure  to  carry  with  them  to  the  ground,  wherever  they  fall, 
not  only  the  sense,  but  the  proof  of  having  acted  the  noblest 
part  that  God  grants  to  man,  that  of  sacrificing  body  to  mind, 
expediency  to  right,  fact  to  truth,  now  to  hereafter. 

"  Let  no  man  think  the  influence  of  these  efforts  is  as  small 
as  the  attention  he  gives  to  them.  If  the  gifted  minds  of  a 
country  like  ours  are  to  join  the  current,  echo  the  cry  of  the 
street,  and  hammer  out  their  gold  to  bedizen  the  every-day  life 
of  the  many,  what  will  be  the  consequence  ?  The  course  will  be 
downward,  and  when  the  gifted  travel  in  that  direction  they 
travel  fast. 

"  I  hope  that  in  your  biography  of  Allston  you  will  lay  due 
stress  on  one  feature  of  his  artistical  character.  He  never 
wrought  but  upon  subjects  capable  of  wholly  absorbing  his  mind, 
and  he  never  let  his  work  go  from  him  until  that  mind  was  re- 
flected back  from  the  canvas.  To  give  an  idea  of  his  views  of 
the  objects  of  art,  would  be  to  name  all  his  subjects ;  to  im- 
press one  with  his  sense  of  what  was  due  to  technical  execution 
would  be  to  show  labors  and  studies  through  which  I  am  not 
able  to  follow  him.  To  appreciate  the  force  of  his  genius  one 
must  have  seen  how  deaf  was  his  ear  to  the  promise  of  gain,  and 
of  newspaper  renown,  through  poverty  and  illness ;  to  feel  what 
a  heart  he  had,  one  must  have  seen  him  in  all  these  struggles, 
generous,  loving,  forgetful  of  self,  living  in  the  life  of  others." 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 


LETTEKS  FEOM  HORATIO  GREENOUGH  EULOGIZING  ALLSTON'S  CHAR- 
ACTER AND  COMMENTING  ON  HIS  WORKS. — A  LETTER  FROM  W. 
W.  STORY,  SUPPLEMENTED  BY  A  TRIBUTE  TO  ALLSTON  IN 
VERSE. 

Both  the  personal  and  the  artistic  sides  of  Allston  are  elo- 
quently testified  to  in  the  two  following  letters  from  Horatio 
Greenough  to  E.  H.  Dana,  Sr. : 

"Paris,  September  21,  1843. 

"  My  Dear  Sir  :  Your  letter  of  the  13th  ult.  has  just  now 
reached  me,  and  has  been  a  great  relief  to  me.  The  thought  of 
having  been  so  near  Allston  at  the  time  of  his  death,  yet  not 
with  him,  distressed  me.  I  longed  for  a  voice  from  one  of  you, 
to  hear  what  you  have  now  told  me.  What  would  I  not  have 
borne  to  have  the  memory  which  your  daughter  will  ever  retain 
of  having  listened  to  the  last  breathings  of  his  blessed  spirit ! 
.  .  .  But  I  knew  all  that  I  was  enjoying  when  Allston  lived. 
I  can  truly  say  that  I  heard  him  as  an  angel,  and  that  when  far 
from  him  he  exercised  over  me  a  power  no  other  man  ever  did. 

"  In  my  eagerness  to  do  something,  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Quincy 
and  to  Mr.  Gray  to  beg  that  they  would  use  their  influence  to  pre- 
vent tampering  with  the  unfinished  work  which  Allston  had  left. 
I  tried  to  make  them  feel  that  works  like  his  are  always  finished, 
because  the  first  lines  that  declared  his  intention  were  a  whole, 
and  never  finished,  because  the  last  agony  of  elaboration  was 
but  an  approximation  to  his  thought.    I  wished  them  to  under- 


384 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


stand  that  instead  of  endeavoring  to  help  him,  our  task  is  but  to 
receive  gratefully  and  cherish  as  it  is  all  that  came  from  him. 

"  I  can  fully  realize  the  anxiety  with  which  you  shrink  from 
undertaking  his  biography.  As  a  man  you  can  record  him — I 
know  you  will  do  it — worthily !  As  an  artist  you  cannot  record 
him  !  You  will  see  that  the  news  of  his  decease  will  elicit  from 
England,  from  Italy,  and  Germany,  tributes  to  his  genius. 
Neither  can  these  record  Allston  the  artist.  It  is  to  the  men 
who  will  be  born  of  him  that  I  look  for  a  fit  monument  of  his 
career,  and  hence  my  sense  of  the  duty  of  collecting  and  preserv- 
ing his  unfinished  works,  because  they  are  full  of  invaluable  in- 
struction to  kindred  minds. 

"  In  whatever  walk  of  culture  a  genius  now  labors  he  is  a 
scourge.  To  the  superficial,  the  heartless,  to  the  time-serving, 
to  the  false,  he  must  be  a  scourge !  In  the  early  ages  of  art  a 
genius  threw  open  new  sources  of  light  and  stood  in  the  blaze  of 
his  own  creation  a  demi-god  ;  but  now  the  false  prophets  throw 
their  rods  on  the  ground  and  they  become  serpents  ;  the  rod  of 
the  genius,  like  that  of  Moses,  devours  them.  In  this  sense  it  is 
that  even  the  artist  whose  mission  seems  so  peaceful  bears  a 
two-edged  sword. 

"America  has  always  acted  toward  her  artists  like  a  hen 
who  hatched  ducklings  ;  she  cannot  understand  why  they  run  to 
the  water  instead  of  thriving  on  the  dunghill,  which  only  asks 
to  be  scratched  in  order  to  feed  them  ;  she  will  learn  better,  but 
not  yet. 

"  I  will  write  to  you  what  I  have  treasured  of  remembrance 
of  Allston ;  I  cannot  do  it  now — I  cannot  bring  myself  to  think 
calmly  enough,  but  when  I  am  in  my  own  home  I  will  write.  I 
think  that  all  should  be  recorded,  but  only  a  reserved  biography 
as  yet  given.  I  know  that  it  was  impossible  in  America  for  All- 
ston's  career  to  be  other  than  it  was.  I  blame  no  one,  but  I  think 
that  we  should  withhold  our  testimony  until  the  nation  awakes  to 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


3S5 


a  sense  of  the  worth  of  her  noble  child.  Until  she  begs  to  hear 
of  this  man,  who,  doing  more  for  thought  and  truth  and  love 
than  all  these  of  the  ignorant  present,  entered  not  into  the  ac- 
count of  her  treasures.  Mr.  Dana,  you  will  remember  how  much 
of  esteem  and  affection  was  lavished  upon  Allston  by  the  higher 
minds  of  America,  and  you  will  perhaps  feel  surprised  that  I 
speak  thus.  If  you  could  but  see  the  career  of  a  high  artist 
here  in  Germany,  or  even  in  poor  Italy,  you  would  understand 
why  I  grieve. 

"  Wherever  I  have  been  I  have  found  some  one  or  two  per- 
sons who  owed  to  Allston  the  birth  of  their  souls,  and  with  these 
I  have  always  found  that  what  I  had  imbibed  from  him  was  a 
chain  of  sympathy,  a  bond  of  affection  even.  To  look  back  to 
those  hours  when  he  was  with  us,  to  recall  his  words,  his  looks, 
to  cherish  the  memory  of  his  virtues,  these  must  henceforth  take 
the  place  of  his  presence.  Is  it  not  thus  that  our  Father  weans 
us  from  earth,  and  prepares  us  also  to  lie  down  by  our  departed 
friends  ? 

"  Very  truly  and  affectionately  yours, 

"Horatio  Greenough." 

11  Florence,  June  11,  1844. 
"  Dear  Sir  :  The  few  words  which  I  shall  say  will  be  very 
general  in  their  character,  and  I  feel  the  more  reconciled  to  this 
forced  silence  of  mine  from  the  reflection  that  Allston  as  a  man 
will  be  fully  recorded,  while  his  work  must  ever  be  his  monument 
as  a  poet.  We  have  seen  that  a  living  Lawrence  or  David  exerts 
an  influence  upon  contemporary  art  which  the  example  of  a  dead 
Kaphael  cannot  counterbalance.  The  crowd  of  aspirants  natur- 
ally seeks  to  reflect  the  qualities  of  the  favorite  of  the  age.  This 
but  shows  that  painting  shares  the  fate  of  all  human  pursuits. 
What  a  deluge  of  would-be  misanthropy  has  been  poured  forth 

by  the  imitators  of  Byron.    But  if  this  be  true  of  the  mass,  the 
25 


386 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


reverse  is  the  case  of  the  man  of  genius.  Raphael  first  absorbed 
the  masters  who  had  preceded  him,  and  then  became  their  coun- 
terpart. Michael  Angelo  carried  on  a  double  war  with  the  mea- 
gre imitation  of  the  early  Florentine  sculptors  and  the  measured 
and  scientific  grace  of  the  antique.  Carravaggio's  fierce  chiaro- 
oscuro  was  born  of  the  emasculate  gradations  of  Guido,  and  in 
one  way  Canova  turned  to  the  Greeks,  satiated  by  the  extrava- 
gance of  Bernini's  school.  In  some  of  these  instances  there 
would  seem  to  have  been  as  much  of  malice  aforethought  in 
the  choice  of  style,  as  of  sincere  bias  of  the  heart  and  of  taste ; 
but  this  we  may  venture  to  affirm,  that  we  have  not  seen  two 
men  of  strong  decided  genius  work  the  same  vein  of  thought 
in  painting. 

"  Allston  began  the  study  of  art  in  Eome  at  a  time  when  a 
revolution  in  taste  had  just  been  effected  throughout  the  Conti- 
nent. The  works  of  Winkelmann  and  Yisconti  were  but  symp- 
toms of  the  reaction  which  pervaded  the  cultivated  classes,  a  re- 
action whose  first  wave  swept  away  the  puny  relics  of  Bernini, 
and  whose  second  placed  Canova  on  the  pedestal  of  Phidias,  and 
David  on  the  throne  of  painting.  To  do  justice  to  Allston,  one 
should  be  familiar  with  the  history  of  art  at  that  epoch.  He 
should  see  the  color  with  which  David  achieved  his  fame  to  ap- 
preciate Allston's  worship  of  the  Venetians.  He  should  know 
how  extensively  Roman  history  occupied  public  attention  as  a 
subject  of  art  to  feel  Allston's  unwavering  adherence  to  the 
neglected  poetry  of  the  Bible.  He  should  be  aware  how  fully 
Michael  Angelo  had  fallen  into  disrepute,  how  the  simpler  and 
earlier  masters  were  laughed  to  scorn,  in  order  to  do  justice  to 
the  mind  of  the  American  painter,  who,  without  once  failing  to 
pay  his  tribute  of  admiration  to  the  cleverness  and  executive 
vigor  of  the  reigning  artists,  kept  his  eye  and  his  heart  unen- 
thralled,  daily  absorbing  from  all  that  had  gone  before  its  most 
varied  and  precious  results. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


387 


"  Like  all  artists  who  have  received  a  literary  education,  All- 
ston  began  his  studies  by  theory,  by  books,  and  amateur  efforts. 
Like  all  artists  who  so  begin  he  was  forced  to  unlearn  what  he 
had  thus  acquired.  1  When  I  first  went  abroad  I  groped  for  five 
years  in  the  dark,'  these  were  his  words  to  me.  They  show  his 
sense  of  what  was  wanting  in  his  earlier  means  of  instruction. 
In  Kome  Allston  mastered  painting  as  a  language,  proved  his 
idea  of  the  scope  and  object  of  his  art,  planned  his  processes  and 
marked  out  his  career.  The  Germans,  who  have  raised  so  noble 
a  school  upon  a  philosophic  study  of  the  early  painters,  and  who 
are  said  to  owe  to  Allston  their  first  clear  idea  of  the  means  as 
well  as  the  end  of  a  modern  school  of  art,  they,  and  they  alone, 
can  do  justice  to  that  portion  of  his  career. 

"  No  artist  ever  felt  the  beautiful  more  keenly  than  Allston ; 
none  ever  gave  it  more  exactly  its  due  place  in  his  heart.  It 
was  with  him  always  a  means,  never  an  end.  Moral  beauty  was 
his  idol,  if  so  it  can  be  called ;  religious  truth  his  main  inspira- 
tion. Through  all  his  higher  efforts  there  breathes  the  same 
spirit,  and  a  voice  comes  from  thence  that  fills  the  mind  with 
awe.  Whether  in  '  Jeremiah,'  in  1  Miriam,'  in  1  Saul,'  or  in  '  Bel- 
shazzar,'  we  have  the  same  dreadful  words,  '  I  will  repay.' 

"  Allston's  style  was  extremely  varied,  as  were  the  subjects  he 
treated.  His  was  no  formal  manner,  operating  with  the  regular- 
ity, fecundity,  and  swiftness  of  a  machine.  Who  would  assign 
to  the  same  hand  the  landscapes  at  Boston  and  the  'Desert,' 
purchased  by  Mr.  Labouchere  ?  When  I  reflect  upon  the  char- 
acter of  his  works  and  the  immense  labor  bestowed  upon  them,  I 
am  surprised  that  this  age,  so  prone  to  regard  art  as  a  handmaid 
of  luxury,  should  have  employed  him  as  it  did.  When  I  remem- 
ber the  astonishing  rapidity  of  his  execution,  the  ease  with  which 
his  hand  and  eye  mirrored  the  beauty  before  him,  when  I  re- 
member that  his  will  alone  stood  between  his  poverty  and  the 
most  prolific  outpouring  of  production,  with  all  the  renown  and 


388 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


emolument  that  accompany  it,  then  I  form  a  clear  idea  of  the 
character  of  his  genius. 

"His  was  truly  a  great  and  a  noble  example.  Was  such  ever 
thrown  away  ?  Surely  never.  More  even  than  in  his  works  do 
I  believe  that  he  will  live  in  the  awakened  minds  of  American 
art,  and  who  shall  say  where  the  republic  will  carry  the  achieve- 
ments of  painting  with  him  for  her  first-born  poet-painter? 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  Horatio  Greenough." 

Upon  the  occasion  of  the  Allston  Celebration  in  Boston,  No- 
vember 1,  1880,  the  following  letter  from  the  sculptor,  W.  W. 
Story,  was  received  by  the  committee  in  charge,  together  with 
the  lines  given  below : 

"Venice,  October,  1880. 
" .  .  .  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  there  is  to  be  a  celebra- 
tion in  honor  of  Allston,  and  very  happy  to  send  my  little  con- 
tribution, which  I  only  wish  were  far  more  worthy  of  the  occa- 
sion. We  have  been  singularly  neglectful,  thus  far,  of  his  great 
claims  as  an  artist,  upon  our  admiration.  It  seems  to  me  high 
time  that  something  should  be  done  in  his  honor,  some  perma- 
nent memorial  raised  to  keep  alive  the  memory  of  his  genius  and 
his  person.  He  is  one  of  our  great  men.  Pure  in  his  life  as  a 
child,  modest  in  his  character,  and  of  a  delicacy  and  refinement 
of  imagination  in  his  art  that  entitles  him  to  take  rank  with  the 
great  masters.  When  I  remember  the  place  in  which  he  worked, 
the  difficulties  which  he  had  to  encounter,  the  absence  of  all 
stimulus  save  that  which  he  found  within  himself,  his  prosaic 
surroundings,  the  want  of  models  and  means  for  his  art,  and  in 
every  way  the  restrictions  of  his  position,  the  works  that  he  pro- 
duced were  almost  marvellous ;  but  genius  makes  its  own  place, 
and  time  breaks  the  difficulties  of  circumstance. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


389 


"  My  memories  of  him  are  delightful.  I  saw  him  but  seldom, 
for  I  was  too  young,  too  shy,  to  dare  to  intrude  upon  him  before 
death  took  him  away.  I,  in  common  with  all  who  knew  him,  was 
carried  away  by  the  charm  of  his  presence,  the  gracious  dignity 
of  his  manners,  the  breadth  and  variety  of  his  conversation,  and 
the  simple  modesty  and  refinement  of  his  character.  One  long 
evening  I  remember  to  have  spent  with  him,  being  taken  to  his 
house  by  Mr.  Sumner.  Then  under  the  spell  of  his  delightful 
conversation  the  hours  passed  like  moments.  He  talked  of  art 
and  filled  my  mind  with  delightful  visions ;  gave  living  anecdotes 
and  reminiscences  of  the  great  men  of  England  whom  he  had 
known ;  discoursed  of  pictures  and  galleries,  of  Titian  and  Baf- 
faelle,  and  all  the  great  names  of  art,  which  were  then  only 
names,  and  I  left  him  after  midnight  with  my  brain  afire,  feeling 
as  if  a  wondrous  world  had  been  opened  before  me.  That,  and 
the  few  other  conversations  that  I  afterward  had  with  him  (con- 
versations I  call  them,  but  I  was  only  a  rapt  listener),  gave  a 
color  to  the  whole  of  my  after-life  and  filled  me  with  ideas,  hopes 
and  feelings,  and  aspirations  of  turbulent  delight.  Little  then 
did  I  dream  of  being  an  artist  myself,  and  possibly  I  never 
should  have  been  one  had  it  not  been  for  his  inspiring  influence. 
What  a  grand  and  splendid  career  it  seemed  as  he  painted  it. 
No  low  jealousy  deformed  it  in  his  mind ;  no  mean  motives 
turned  it  aside  from  its  great  end  of  beauty.  It  was  a  mountain 
range  of  high  imagination,  of  exquisite  fancy,  of  tender  senti- 
ment, where  no  low  spirit  could  ascend  ;  where  only  the  highest 
and  best- winged  spirit  could  soar  and  wander. 

"  He  filled  my  mind  with  his  own  enthusiasm  and  taught  me 
the  dignity  of  art,  the  sincere  devotion  it  demanded.  The  ear- 
nest study,  the  consecration  of  the  whole  mind  and  heart  it  re- 
quired. And  he  led  me  into  its  precincts  as  a  high-priest  leads 
the  trembling  neophyte  to  the  altar.  I  can  never  be  grateful 
enough  to  him  for  the  high  standard  which  he  set  before  me,  as 


390 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


before  all  who  came  into  his  presence.  There  was  something 
singularly  attractive  in  his  face,  something  ideal.  His  complex- 
ion was  pale,  as  of  a  student  and  thinker ;  his  eyes  large,  of  a 
tender,  swimming  blue,  and  deeply  set  under  the  brow,  but  with 
the  whole  orbit,  above  and  beneath  filled  out,  and,  so  to  speak, 
pulpy,  so  that  they  seeined  even  larger  than  they  were,  and  filled 
with  a  mild,  pure  light,  that  I  can  liken  to  nothing  else  than 
a  lake  in  which  the  blue  sky  is  tenderly  reflected ;  soft,  large, 
luminous,  dreamy.  His  hair,  which  was  abundant,  soft  in  text- 
ure, and  nearly  white,  flowed  in  long  waves  down  his  neck  be- 
hind, but  was  shorter  and  more  curly  in  front,  and  seemed 
almost  like  a  halo  around  his  head,  in  perfect  harmony  of  color 
with  his  pale  face  and  soft  blue  eyes.  It  may  be  somewhat  of 
the  reverence  with  which  I  looked  at  him,  and  my  own  young 
and  enthusiastic  admiration,  but  he  still  remains  in  my  memory 
as  the  most  ideal  and  poetic  person  I  ever  saw — one  from  whom 
one  might  expect  such  exquisite  sentiments,  such  tender  grace  as 
he  introduces  on  his  canvas. 

"  I  remember  specially  that  he  expatiated  at  length  one  day 
on  the  peculiar  effect  of  blue  in  the  eye,  and  told  me  that  in  his 
studies  for  the  head  of  '  Jeremiah,'  he  drew  one  from  a  Jew,  and 
found  that  the  mere  change  of  color  from  blue  to  brown  so 
altered  the  expression  that  whereas  the  blue  seemed  to  gaze  ab- 
stractedly into  vacancy,  when  changed  to  brown  they  seemed  to 
be  fixed  intently  on  some  object.  He  tried  it  over  and  over 
again  with  the  same  results. 

"  It  has  always  been  a  matter  of  regret  to  me  that  Mr.  K.  H. 
Dana  did  not  carry  out  the  intention,  which  he  undoubtedly  had, 
of  writing  Allston's  life.  I  still  hope  that  he  has  left  his  notes 
of  Allston's  conversations  and  ideas  of  processes  of  art  which 
may  be  used  in  the  life  which  remains  to  be  written.  Perhaps 
no  one  would  be  so  capable  of  doing  this  as  he,  for  he  knew  him 
intimately,  was  a  poet  himself,  and  in  every  way  fitted  to  do  this 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


391 


work.  No  time  should  be  lost  to  gather  together  what  remains 
of  personal  reminiscences,  and  I  beg  to  urge  this  upon  his  friends, 
the  few  who  still  remain. 

"For  myself  I  wish  to  recall  the  great  admiration  for  the 
man  and  the  artist.  He  was,  as  we  all  know,  extremely  fastidi- 
ous in  his  work,  always  aiming  at  the  highest,  and  never  satisfy- 
ing himself.  But  what  he  did  was  in  its  quality  of  a  most  rare 
and  exquisite  character,  showing  an  extreme  refinement  of  senti- 
ment, a  grace  of  fancy,  a  harmony  of  composition,  and  a  beauty 
of  color  in  his  best  works  that  have  seldom  been  surpassed, 
and  in  some  qualities  never  reached.  The  sketches,  chiefly  in 
outline,  which  were  so  well  engraved  by  Cheney,  are  in  them- 
selves sufficient  to  establish  his  claim  as  an  artist  of  remarkable 
power. 

"  The  figures  of  the  angels,  outlined  by  himself  from  his 
picture  of  '  Jacob's  Dream,'  are  in  spirit,  design,  and  sentiment 
worthy  to  be  placed  in  the  same  rank  as  the  best  work  of  Kaf- 
faelle.  The  composition  of  1  Titania's  Court '  is  exquisite  in 
grace  and  harmony,  and  produced  by  the  most  delicate  fancy ;  so, 
too,  the  fairies  on  the  seashore  have  the  same  refined  and  elegant 
charm.  The  ship  in  a  storm,  though  merely  sketched  in  white 
chalk,  has  the  power  and  mastery  of  a  finished  work  by  a  great 
hand.  I  know  nothing  finer  than  the  sweep  of  the  waves  and 
the  large  feeling  for  nature  that  is  there  shown.  Yet  these  are 
mere  sketches  which  probably  no  eye  ever  saw  till  after  his 
death,  and  which  he  seems  to  have  considered  of  little  impor- 
tance. 

"  In  his  paintings  his  color  is  perhaps  their  greatest  attrac- 
tion. They  have  the  best  characteristics  of  the  Venetian  school, 
and  beyond  this  a  refinement  and  fastidious  beauty  specially  be- 
longing to  Allston.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  any  school 
anything  more  exquisite  in  tone  and  color  than,  for  instance, 
the  group  in  the  middle  distance  in  '  Belshazzar's  Feast ; '  more 


392 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


dreamy  and  perfect  in  sentiment  than  'Rosalie  Listening  to  the 
Music,'  with  its  twilight,  too,  so  perfectly  in  accord  with  the 
theme  of  the  picture ;  more  masterly  than  '  Isaac  the  Jew,'  and 
especially  the  hand  in  the  subdued  light  with  its  sparkling  ring ; 
more  inspired  in  character  and  expression  than  the  '  Jeremiah ; ' 
more  large  and  broad  in  style  and  delightful  in  composition 
than  his  Italian  and  Swiss  landscapes. 

"  I  am  here  only  rudely  hinting  at  his  excellences.  Some  of 
these  pictures,  which  I  have  never  seen  since  the  exhibition  of 
his  works,  just  after  his  death,  remain  in  my  memory  as  the  most 
charming  things  I  ever  saw.  "What,  by  the  hand  of  man,  was 
ever  more  idyllic  and  full  of  the  spirit  of  unconscious  nature 
than  that  delicate,  nude,  shepherd  boy,  piping  to  himself  in  the 
wood,  with  the  glancing  light  striking  against  the  trunks  of  the 
trees  that  show  through  the  slope  behind  him,  as  he  listens  in 
sweet  privacy  to  the  pastoral  notes  of  his  pipe  ?  "  What  more 
full  of  tender  sentiment  than  the  twilight  picture  of  '  Lorenzo 
and  Jessica,'  with  the  pure  light  still  lingering  faintly  in  the  sky, 
as  they  sit  in  the  soft  shadow  of  the  coming  night,  their  heads 
silhouetted  against  the  light,  above  the  dark  bank  that  rises 
against  the  sky  ?  It  is  all  mystery  and  poetry.  "What  is  more 
fresh  and  glad  than  '  Una  in  the  Wood  ?  '  But  let  me  stop,  I  do 
not  know  that  I  should  like  to  see  them  again,  so  charming  is 
my  recollection  of  them.  You  ask  for  a  sonnet  and  I  send  you 
these.  I  have  not  said  half  that  I  wish  to  say,  even  though  I 
have  thrice  exceeded  my  limits. 

"A  gentle  nobleness,  a  quiet  grace 
From  some  ideal  sphere  of  beauty  caught, 
Hallowed  the  art  of  Allston,  swayed  his  thought, 
Breathed  thro'  his  manners  and  illumined  his  face. 
Here  in  life's  prose  he  seemed  half  out  of  place, 
An  exile,  who  from  higher  realms  had  brought 
Graces  refined  and  lofty  dreams,  where  naught 
Of  low  or  mean  or  common  had  a  trace. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


393 


Well  may  he  walk  as  brother  in  the  line 

Of  the  great  masters;  scarcely  less  than  they 

In  harmonies  of  color,  grand  design, 

Imagination,  power  of  fancy's  play, 

And  none  with  tenderer  feeling,  sense  more  fine, 

Thro'  pathless  realms  could  find  the  poet's  way. 

"  We  laid  him  with  small  honor  in  the  tomb, 
But  trivial  record  of  his  life  remains, 
Save  what  his  hand  with  tender,  patient  pains 
Upon  his  canvas  wrought  (the  perfect  bloom 
Of  his  high  nature),  and  the  faint  perfume 
Of  delicate,  fine  verse,  and  patient  strains 
Of  lofty  ring,  and  prose  where  romance  reigns, 
And  high  philosophies  of  art  have  room  ; 
These  for  themselves  will  speak  and  live  ;  but  we — 
We  have  our  task  to  do — his  life  to  write, 
That  nought  be  lost  by  treacherous  memory 
Of  that  clear  spirit — and,  in  all  men's  sight, 
To  build  his  monument,  that  it  may  be 
A  beacon,  an  encouragement,  a  light. 

"  If  to  the  warrior  who  hath  writ  his  name 
On  Victory's  fields  a  monument  we  raise — 
If  to  the  statesman,  who  through  perilous  bays 
Of  peace  hath  steered  and  struck  no  rock  of  blame 
Shall  not  the  artist  equal  honors  claim 
Who  by  his  genius  on  the  canvas  stays 
The  fleeting  hour — the  historic  deed  delays — 
And  rescues  beauty  from  Time's  blight  and  shame? 
Oh  !  shall  not  beauty  plead  for  him  whose  art 
Makes  her  immortal ;  from  her  wide  domain 
Brings  gracious  gifts  to  cheer  and  lift  the  heart — 
Bids  even  the  banished  dead  revive  again, 
And  for  our  joy  creates  a  world  apart 
Peopled  with  silent  children  of  the  brain  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


ALLSTON'S  POETRY  AND  OTHER  LITERARY  WORK. — EXTRACTS  AND 
COMMENTS. — "ROSALIE." — "AMERICA  TO  GREAT  BRITAIN." — 
SONNETS. — "  SYLPHS  OF  THE  SEASONS." — "THE  PAINT-KING." 
— COMPARISON  OF  OSTADE  AND  RAPHAEL. — "  MONALDI." — APHO- 
RISMS. 

In  the  year  1813  Allston  had  "published  in  London  a  book  of 
poems  entitled  "  The  Sylphs  of  the  Seasons,  and  Other  Poems." 
This  volume  was  favorably  received  by  his  friends  and  the  more 
critical  public,  and  after  his  death  was  republished,  with  his 
other  poems,  in  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.'s  edition  of  his  works,  entitled 
cc  Lectures  on  Art,  and  Poems,"  by  Washington  Allston. 

An  eminent  art  critic  and  lecturer  of  the  time,  Mr.  Joseph 
Henry  Green,  wrote  to  a  friend  in  America,  in  reference  to  All- 
ston's  poetry  : 

"  My  acquaintance  with  Washington  Allston  was  the  result 
of  the  good  offices  of  our  mutual  friend  and  our  revered  teacher 
S.  T.  Coleridge.  How  lasting  the  impression  of  that  intercourse, 
brief  indeed,  but  unreserved,  has  been,  may  be  gathered,  in  part 
at  least,  from  the  fact  of  my  having  quoted  more  then  one  pas- 
sage from  Allston's  poems  in  my  lecture  delivered  this  season 
at  our  Royal  Academy. 

"  Who,  indeed,  who  had  enjoyed  the  inestimable  privilege  of 
converse  with  such  a  man,  could  ever  forget  the  purity,  the  depth 
and  simplicity  of  his  mind  ?  Indeed  Allston  had  himself  studied 
his  art  with  poetic  feeling  and  philosophic  thought,  and  I  doubt 
whether  his  productive  genius  or  aspiration  as  an  artist  can  be 
fully  appreciated  without  a  knowledge  of  his  poems.    From  his 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


395 


sonnets  on  some  of  the  masterpieces  of  the  great  Italian  paint- 
ers, among  whom  he  will  take  his  rank,  it  will  be  seen  what  his 
admirable  works  have  realized ;  that  however  great  his  technical 
skill  and  knowledge,  his  high  aim  and  excellence  were  the  im- 
agination working  in  the  service  of  the  moral  being,  and  the  rep- 
resentation of  the  ennobled  character  of  humanity." 

We  do  not  propose  an  extended  citation  of  Allston's  poems  ; 
our  purpose  is  to  show,  as  we  think  we  may,  by  a  few  selections, 
that  the  spirit  of  the  true  poet  was  native  to  him  ;  that  it  was 
not  the  resultant  of  special  culture,  but  rather  an  element  in  his 
intellectual  and  moral  constitution  j  that  it  manifested  itself  not 
by  an  effort  of  art,  but  naturally,  spontaneously,  and  even  neces- 
sarily. He  did  not  make  poetry,  it  was  in  him,  and  he  could  not 
withhold  it.  He  was  in  every  sense  of  the  word  a  poet,  whether 
in  painting  or  writing  or  conversation.  His  mind  was  replete 
with  visions,  and  his  sensitive,  emotional  nature  could  summon 
them  at  will. 

In  a  recent  conversation  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  narrated  to 
the  writer  the  following  incident : 

"  Some  fifty  years  ago  a  question  of  public  interest  in  Cam- 
bridgeport  brought  together  a  large  assemblage  in  one  of  the 
churches  of  the  place.  I  was  standing  in  one  of  the  galleries,  and 
looking  over  to  the  other  I  saw  among  the  people  assembled  a 
man  who  looked  so  '  like  an  angel  of  light '  that  I  knew  him  to 
be  Allston,  although  I  had  never  seen  him  before." 

His  appearance  was  indeed  impressive.  No  one  could  see 
him  without  feeling  something  of  his  character.  To  those  who 
have  seen  him,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  genial  poet  of 
Boston  needed  no  one  to  designate  Allston.  There  was  in 
him  a  remarkable  symmetry  of  endowment.  As  an  artist  he 
seemed  to  possess  every  gift  requisite  to  produce  the  best  effects 
in  every  department.  As  a  poet  he  had  the  same  fulness  of 
natural  qualities.    His  poem  "  Rosalie  "  breathes  the  true  spirit 


396 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


of  poesy.  It  forms  a  part  of  a  dual  inspiration — a  picture  on 
canvas  and  a  picture  in  verse.  That  on  canvas  is  a  young 
woman,  with  a  pensive  expression,  as  if  listening  to  music  that 
fills  her  soul  with  an  ecstasy  of  sadness,  and  captivates  her  with 
a  sensation  so  profound  as  to  simulate  melancholy — the  melan- 
choly of  entranced  emotion.  The  picture  in  verse  expresses 
what  that  on  canvas  was  intended  to  represent.  We  quote  the 
poem  in  full : 

"O!  pour  upon  my  soul  again 

That  sad,  unearthly  strain, 
That  seems  from  other  worlds  to  plain ; 
Thus  falling,  falling  from  afar, 
As  if  some  melancholy  star 
Had  mingled  with  her  light  her  sighs, 

And  droj>ped  them  from  the  skies  ! 

"No, — never  came  from  aught  below 

This  melody  of  woe, 
That  makes  my  heart  to  overflow, 
As  from  a  thousand  gushing  springs, 
Unknown  before  ;  that  with  it  brings 
This  nameless  light— if  light  it  be, — 

That  veils  the  world  I  see. 

"  For  all  I  see  around  me  wears 

The  hue  of  other  spheres  ; 
And  something  blent  of  smiles  and  tears 
Comes  with  the  very  air  I  breathe. 
O !  nothing,  sure,  the  stars  beneath 
Can  mould  a  sadness  like  to  this, — 

So  like  angelic  bliss." 

So,  at  that  dreamy  hour  of  day 

When  the  last  lingering  ray 
Stops  on  the  highest  cloud  to  play, — 
So  thought  the  gentle  Rosalie, 
As  on  her  maiden  reverie 
First  fell  the  strain  of  him  who  stole 

In  music  to  her  soul. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


397 


Coleridge  was  so  impressed  by  the  poem  "  America  to  Great 
Britain,"  that  he  published  it  in  his  "  Sybilline  Leaves,"  with 
the  following  note :  "  This  poem,  written  by  an  American  gen- 
tleman, a  valued  and  dear  friend,  I  communicate  to  the  reader 
for  its  moral  no  less  than  its  patriotic  spirit." 

Amekica  to  Great  Britain. 

All  hail !  thou  noble  land, 
Our  Fathers'  native  soil ! 
O  !  stretch  thy  mighty  hand, 
Gigantic  grown  by  toil, 
O'er  the  vast  Atlantic  wave  to  our  shore  ! 
For  thou  with  magic  might 
Can'st  reach  to  where  the  light 
Of  Phoebus  travels  bright 
The  world  o'er! 

The  Genius  of  our  clime, 

From  his  pine-embattled  steep, 
Shall  hail  the  guest  sublime; 
While  the  Tritons  of  the  deep 
With  their  conchs  the  kindred  league  shall  proclaim. 
Then  let  the  world  combine, — 
O'er  the  main  our  naval  line 
Like  the  milky- way  shall  shine 
Bright  in  fame ! 

Though  ages  long  have  past 

Since  our  Fathers  left  their  home, 
Their  pilot  in  the  blast, 
O'er  untravelled  seas  to  roam, 
Yet  lives  the  blood  of  England  in  our  veins ! 
And  shall  we  not  proclaim 
That  blood  of  honest  fame 
Which  no  tyranny  can  tame 
By  its  chains  ? 

While  the  language  free  and  bold 

Which  the  Bard  of  Avon  sung, 
In  which  our  Milton  told 

How  the  vault  of  heaven  rung 


308 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


When  Satan,  blasted,  fell  with  his  host  ; 
While  this,  with  reverence  meet, 
Ten  thousand  echoes  greet, 
From  rock  to  rock  repeat 
Round  our  coast ; 

While  the  mauners,  while  the  arts, 

That  mould  a  nation's  soul, 
Still  cling  around  our  hearts — 
Between  let  Ocean  roll, 
Our  joint  communion  breaking  with  the  Sun  ; 
Yet  still  from  either  beach 
The  voice  of  blood  shall  reach, 
More  audible  than  speech, 
"  We  are  One." 

Allston  was  versatile  in  methods,  but  beauty  was  ever  a  con- 
spicuous component  in  his  style.  He  once  said,  in  a  conversation 
with  his  niece,  Miss  Charlotte  Dana,  that  if  there  was  any  one 
thing  which  he  was  sure  he  possessed,  it  was  an  intense  sense  of 
harmony.  Moral  and  physical  harmony  were  one  in  his  mind ;  a 
sentiment  pervading  his  moral  and  intellectual  natures,  so  blend- 
ing them  that  they  were  almost  indistinguishable. 

Another  time  he  said  to  the  same  person  that  if  he  had  three 
lives  to  live  he  should  be  every  day  learning  something  new  in 
his  art.  "  The  big,  ardent  mind  must  be  doing  something,  or  it 
pines  and  dies.  It  must  be  filling  up  the  awkward  void  ;  storing 
time  with  acts  and  making  life  substantial." 

Allston  was  not  deficient  in  strength  or  in  the  adventuring 
boldness  of  genius.  Beauty  did  not  check,  if  we  may  so  express 
it,  the  effrontery  of  his  imagination,  or  smooth  the  rugged 
strength  of  his  thought.  Symmetry  was  ever  present,  but  never 
to  weaken  his  work.  His  exquisite  adjustment  of  all  elements 
in  the  production  of  effects,  his  love  of  symmetry,  with  har- 
mony, distinguished  him  to  a  remarkable  degree.  The  gentle 
stood  not  alone,  or  as  overbalancing  the  grand.    As  verifying 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


399 


this  we  select  a  few  stanzas,  from  his  personification  of  Winter, 
in  the  "  Sylphs  of  the  Seasons :  " 

And  last  the  Sylph  of  Winter  spake, 
The  while  her  piercing  voice  did  shake 

The  castle-vaults  below  : 
"  O !  youth,  if  thou,  with  soul  refiued, 
Hast  felt  the  triumph  pure  of  mind, 
And  learnt  a  secret  joy  to  find 

In  deepest  scenes  of  woe ; 

"If  e'er  with  fearful  ear  at  eve 
Hast  heard  the  wailing  tem]>ests  grieve 

Through  chink  of  shattered  wall, 
Tho  whilo  it  conjured  o'er  thy  brain 
Of  wandering  ghosts  a  mournful  train, 
That  low  in  fitful  sobs  complain 

Of  Death's  untimely  call  ; 

"Or  feeling,  as  the  storm  increased, 
Tho  lovo  of  terror  nervo  thy  breast, 

Didst  venture  to  the  coast, 
To  see  tho  mighty  war- ship  leap 
From  wave  to  wave  uj>on  tho  deep, 
Liko  chamois  goat  from  steep  to  steep, 

Till  low  in  vmlley  lost  ; 

"  Then,  glancing  to  the  angry  sky, 
Behold  the  clouds  with  fury  fly 

The  bind  moon  atliwart — 
Liko  armies  huge  in  battle,  throng, 
And  pour  in  volleying  ranks  along, 
While  piping  winds  in  martial  song 

To  rushing  war  exhort  : 

"O!  then  to  me  thy  heart  bo  given, 
To  me,  ordained  by  Him  in  heaven 

Thy  nobler  |>owers  to  wako. 
And,  0!  if  thou  with  poet's  soul, 
High  brooding  o'er  tho  frozen  |>ole, 
Hast  felt  bonoath  my  stern  control 

The  desert  region  quake; 


400 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


"  Or  from  old  Hecla's  cloudy  height, 
When  o'er  the  dismal,  half-year's  night 

He  pours  his  sulphurous  breath, 
Hast  known  my  petrifying  wind 
Wild  ocean's  curling  billows  bind, 
Like  bending  sheaves  by  harvest  hind, 

Erect  in  icy  death ; 

"Or  heard  adown  the  mountain's  steep 
The  northern  blast  with  furious  sweep 

Some  cliff  dissevered  dash, 
And  seen  it  spring  with  dreadful  bound, 
From  rock  to  rock,  to  gulf  profound, 
While  echoes  fierce  from  caves  resound 
The  never-ending  crash ; 

"'Twas  I  on  each  enchanting  scene 
The  charm  bestowed,  that  banished  spleen 

Thy  bosom  pure  and  light. 
But  still  a  nobler  power  I  claim — 
That  power  allied  to  poet's  fame, 
Which  language  vain  has  dared  to  name — 

The  soul's  creative  might." 

As  an  instance  of  easy  flowing  verse,  in  which  thought  is 
kept  in  motion,  and  the  reader  is  entertained  by  frequent,  unex- 
pected and  startling  images,  we  cite  "  The  Paint-King."  It  is 
said  to  have  been  written  by  Allston  in  burlesque  of  Scott's 
"  Fire-King,"  and  Lewis's  "  Cloud-King."  This  may  account  for 
the  extravagance  of  its  imagery  without  detracting  from  its 
merit  as  an  example  of  truly  poetic  qualities. 

The  Paint-King. 

Fair  Ellen  was  long  the  delight  of  the  young, 

No  damsel  could  with  her  compare  ; 
Her  charms  were  the  theme  of  the  heart  and  the  tongue, 
And  bards  without  number  in  ecstasies  sung 

The  beauties  of  Ellen  the  Fair. 


A  Marine  in  Chalk. 

From  the  original  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Art. 


WASHINGTON  ALL8T0N 


Yet  cold  was  the  maid ;  and  though  legion*  advanced, 

All  drilled  by  Ovidean  art, 
And  languished  and  ogled,  protested  and  danced, 
Like  shadows  they  came,  and  like  shadows  they  glanced 

From  the  hard,  polished  ice  of  her  heart. 

Yet  still  did  the  heart  of  fair  Ellen  implore 

A  something  that  could  not  be  found  ; 
Like  a  sailor  she  seemed  on  a  desolate  shore, 
With  nor  house,  nor  a  tree,  nor  a  sound  but  the  roar 

Of  breakers  high-dashing  around. 

From  object  to  object  still,  still  would  she  veer, 

Though  nothing,  alas !  could  she  find  ; 
Like  the  moon,  without  atmosphore,  brilliant  and  clear, 
Yet  doomod,  liko  tho  moon,  with  no  being  to  cheer 

Tho  bright  barren  waste  of  hor  mind. 

But,  rather  than  sit  like  a  statue  so  still 

Whon  the  rain  made  her  inanition  a  jmund, 
Up  and  down  would  nho  go,  like  tho  sails  of  a  mill, 
And  pat  ev^ry  stair,  liko  a  woodpecker's  bill, 
From  tho  tiles  of  the  roof  to  tho  ground. 

One  morn,  an  tho  maid  from  her  casement  inclined, 
Passed  a  youth,  with  a  frame  in  his  hand. 

The  casement  «ho  closed  — not  tho  eye  of  her  mind  ; 

For,  do  all  she  could,  no.  she  could  not  be  blind  ; 
Still  before  her  she  saw  tho  youth  stand. 

"Ah,  what  can  he  do?'*  said  tho  languishing  maid  ; 

"Ah,  what  with  that  frame  can  he  do?M 
And  she  knelt  to  the  Goddess  of  Secrets  and  prayed, 
When  the  youth  passed  again,  and  again  ho  displayed 

Tho  framo  and  a  picture  to  view. 

"  O  beautiful  picture !  "  the  fair  Ellen  cried, 

"  I  must  see  thee  again  or  I  die.** 

Then  under  her  white  chin  her  bonnet  she  tied. 

And  after  tho  youth  and  the  picture  she  hied. 

When  the  youth,  looking  back,  met  her  eye. 
86 


402 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


"  Fair  damsel,"  said  he  (and  he  chuckled  the  while), 

"This  picture,  I  see,  you  admire; 
Then  take  it,  I  pray  you  ;  perhaps  'twill  beguile 
Some  moments  of  sorrow  (nay,  pardon  my  smile), 

Or  at  least  keep  you  home  by  the  fire." 

Then  Ellen  the  gift  with  delight  and  surprise 
From  the  cunning  young  stripling  received. 
But  she  knew  not  the  poison  that  entered  her  eyes, 
When  sparkling  with  rapture  they  gazed  on  the  prize — 
Thus,  alas !  are  fair  maidens  deceived ! 

'Twas  a  youth  o'er  the  form  of  a  statue  inclined, 

And  the  sculptor  he  seemed  of  the  stone ; 
Yet  he  languished  as  though  for  its  beauty  he  pined, 
And  gazed  as  the  eyes  of  the  statue  so  blind 
Eeflected  the  beams  of  his  own. 

'Twas  the  tale  of  the  sculptor  Pygmalion  of  old; 

Fair  Ellen  remembered  and  sighed  : 
"Ah,  couldst  thou  but  lift  from  that  marble  so  cold, 
Thine  eyes  too  imploring,  thy  arms  should  enfold 

And  press  me  this  day  as  thy  bride," 

She  said ;  when,  behold,  from  the  canvas  arose 
The  youth,  and  he  stepped  from  the  frame  ; 
With  a  furious  transport  his  arms  did  inclose 
The  love-plighted  Ellen,  and,  clasping,  he  froze 
The  blood  of  the  maid  with  his  flame  ! 

She  turned,  and  beheld  on  each  shoulder  a  wing. 

"O  Heaven!"  cried  she,  "  who  art  thou?" 
From  the  roof  to  the  ground  did  his  fierce  answer  ring, 
As,  frowning,  he  thundered,  "  I  am  the  Paint-King ! 

And  mine,  lovely  maid,  thou  art  now!  " 

Then  high  from  the  ground  did  the  grim  monster  lift 

The  loud-screaming  maid  like  a  blast; 
And  he  sped  through  the  air  like  a  meteor  swift, 
While  the  clouds,  wandering  by  him,  did  fearfully  drift 

To  the  right  and  the  left  as  he  passed. 


WASHINGTON  ALL 8 TON 


403 


Now  suddenly  sloping  his  hurricane  flight, 

With  an  eddying  whirl  he  descends  ; 
The  air  all  below  him  becomes  black  as  night, 
And  the  ground  where  he  treads,  as  if  moved  with  affright, 

Like  the  surge  of  the  Caspian  bends. 

"I  am  here!"  said  the  fiend,  and  he  thundering  knocked 

At  the  gates  of  a  mountainous  cave ; 
The  gates  open  flew,  as  by  magic  unlocked, 
While  the  peaks  of  the  mount,  reeling  to  and  fro,  rocked 

Like  an  island  of  ice  on  the  wave. 

"O  mercy!"  cried  Ellen,  and  swooned  in  his  arms; 

But  the  Paint-King  he  scoffed  at  her  pain. 
"Prithee,  love,"  said  the  monster,  "what  mean  these  alarms?" 
She  hears  not,  she  sees  not,  the  terrible  charms 

That  wake  her  to  horror  again. 

She  opens  her  lids,  but  no  longer  her  eyes 

Behold  the  fair  youth  she  would  woo ; 
Now  appears  the  Paint-King  in  his  natural  guise; 
His  face,  like  a  palette  of  villainous  dyes, 

Black  and  white,  red  and  yellow,  and  blue. 

On  the  skull  of  a  Titan,  that  Heaven  defied, 

Sat  the  fiend,  like  the  grim  Giant  Gog, 
While  aloft  to  his  mouth  a  huge  pipe  he  applied, 
Twice  as  big  as  the  Eddystone  Lighthouse,  descried 

As  it  looms  through  an  easterly  fog. 

And  anon,  as  he  puffed  the  vast  volumes,  were  seen, 

In  horrid  festoons  on  the  wall, 
Legs  and  arms,  heads  and  bodies,  emerging  between, 
Like  the  drawing-room  grim  of  the  Scotch  Sawney  Beane, 

By  the  devil  dressed  out  for  a  ball. 

"Ah  me!"  cried  the  damsel,  and  fell  at  his  feet. 

"Must  I  hang  on  these  walls  to  be  dried?" 
"Ono!  "  said  the  fiend,  while  he  sprung  from  his  seat; 
"  A  far  nobler  fortune  thy  person  shall  meet ; 

Into  paint  will  I  grind  thee,  my  bride!" 


404 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Then,  seizing  the  maid  by  her  dark  auburn  hair, 

An  oil-jug  he  plunged  her  within. 
Seven  days,  seven  nights,  with  the  shrieks  of  despair, 
Did  Ellen  in  torment  convulse  the  dun  air, 

All  covered  with  oil  to  the  chin. 

On  the  morn  of 'the  eighth  on  a  huge  sable  stone, 

Then  Ellen,  all  reeking,  he  laid; 
With  a  rock  for  his  muller  he  crushed  every  bone, 
But,  though  ground  to  a  jelly,  still,  still  did  she  groan ; 

For  life  had  forsook  not  the  maid. 

Now,  reaching  his  palette,  with  masterly  care 

Each  tint  on  its  surface  he  spread ; 
The  blue  of  her  eyes,  and  the  brown  of  her  hair, 
And  the  pearl  and  the  white  of  her  forehead  so  fair, 

And  her  lips'  and  her  cheeks'  rosy-red. 

Then,  stamping  his  foot,  did  the  monster  exclaim, 

"  Now  I  brave,  cruel  Fairy,  thy  scorn !  " 
When  lo  !  from  a  chasm  wide-yawning  there  came 
A  light,  tiny  chariot  of  rose-colored  flame, 

By  a  team  of  ten  glow-worms  upborne. 

Enthroned  in  the  midst  on  an  emerald  bright, 

Fair  Geraldine  sat  without  peer ; 
Her  robe  was  a  gleam  of  the  first  blush  of  light, 
And  her  mantle  the  fleece  of  a  noon-cloud  white, 

And  a  beam  of  the  moon  was  her  spear. 

In  an  accent  that  stole  on  the  still,  charmed  air 

Like  the  first  gentle  language  of  Eve, 
Thus  spake  from  her  chariot  the  Fairy  so  fair : 
"I  come  at  thy  call — but,  O  Paint-King,  beware 

Beware  if  again  you  deceive 

"  'Tis  true,"  said  the  monster,  "  thou  queen  of  my  heart, 

Thy  portrait  I  oft  have  essayed ; 
Yet  ne'er  to  the  canvas  could  I  with  my  art 
The  least  of  thy  wonderful  beauties  impart; 

And  my  failure  with  scorn  you  repaid. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


405 


"Now  I  swear  by  the  light  of  the  Comet-King's  tail," 

And  he  towered  with  pride  as  he  spoke, 
"If  again  with  these  magical  colors  I  fail, 
The  crater  of  Etna  shall  hence  be  my  jail, 
And  my  food  shall  be  sulphur  and  smoke. 

"But  if  I  succeed,  then,  O  fair  Geraldine ! 

Thy  promise  with  justice  I  claim, 
And  thou,  queen  of  Fairies,  shalt  ever  be  mine, 
The  bride  of  my  bed ;  and  thy  portrait  divine 

Shall  fill  all  the  earth  with  my  fame." 

He  spake  ;  when,  behold,  the  fair  Geraldine's  form 

On  the  canvas  enchantingly  glowed  ; 
His  touches — they  flew  like  the  leaves  in  a  storm — 
And  the  pure,  pearly  white  and  the  carnation  warm, 

Contending,  in  harmony  flowed. 

And  now  did  the  portrait  a  twin-sister  seem 

To  the  figure  of  Geraldine  fair  : 
With  the  same  sweet  expression  did  faithfully  teem 
Each  muscle,  each  feature ;  in  short,  not  a  gleam 

Was  lost  of  her  beautiful  hair. 

'Twas  the  Fairy  herself!  but,  alas,  her  blue  eyes 

Still  a  pupil  did  ruefully  lack  ; 
And  who  shall  describe  the  terrific  surprise 
That  seized  the  Paint-King  when,  behold,  he  descries 

Not  a  speck  on  his  palette  of  black! 

"I  am  lost!"  said  the  Fiend,  and  he  shook  like  a  leaf; 

When,  casting  his  eyes  to  the  ground, 
He  saw  the  lost  pupils  of  Ellen,  with  grief, 
In  the  jaws  of  a  mouse,  and  the  sly  little  thief 

Whisk  away  from  his  sight  with  a  bound. 

"I  am  lost!"  said  the  Fiend,  and  he  fell  like  a  stone. 

Then  rising,  the  Fairy  in  ire 
With  a  touch  of  her  finger  she  loosened  her  zone, 
(While  the  limbs  on  the  wall  gave  a  terrible  groan,) 

And  she  swelled  to  a  column  of  fire. 


406 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


Her  spear,  now  a  thunderbolt,  flashed  in  the  air, 

And  sulphur  the  vault  filled  around  ; 
She  smote  the  grim  monster,  and  now  by  the  hair, 
High-lifting,  she  hurled  him  in  speechless  despair 

Down  the  depths  of  the  chasm  profound. 

Then  over  the  picture  thrice  waving  her  spear, 

"Come  forth !"  said  the  good  Geraldine; 
When,  behold,  from  the  canvas  descending,  appear 
Fair  Ellen,  in  person  more  lovely  than  e'er, 
With  grace  more  than  ever  divine ! 

The  singleness  of  theme  and  the  condensation  required  in 
sonnets  have  made  them  a  favorite  form  of  poetic  composition. 
Allston's  style  was  epigrammatic,  yet  flowing  and  perspicuous. 
In  poetry  he  seemed  strongest  when  most  circumscribed — the 
smaller  the  compass  for  its  expression,  the  richer  his  thought. 
He  was  extremely  fond  of  finish.  He  tells  us  that  he  once  spent 
four  hours  in  writing  twenty  lines  of  prose,  after  he  had  the  idea 
perfectly  in  his  mind. 

"  How  poetically  philosophical,"  says  Dana,  the  poet,  "  is 
Allston's  sonnet  on  the  '  Group  of  Angels  '  by  Eaphael ;  and  how 
perfectly  true  it  is  when  applied  to  his  own  works  in  the  art." 

On  the  Gboup  op  the  Three  Angels  Before  the  Tent  of  Abraham, 

by  Baphael. 

O !  now  I  feel  as  though  another  sense, 

From  Heaven  descending,  had  informed  my  soul; 

I  feel  the  pleasurable,  full  control 

Of  Grace,  harmonious,  boundless  and  intense. 

In  thee,  celestial  Group,  embodied  lives 

The  subtil-  mystery,  that  speaking  gives 

Itself  resolved  :  the  essences  combined 

Of  Motion  ceaseless,  Unity  complete. 

Borne  like  a  leaf  by  some  soft  eddying  wind 

Mine  eyes,  impelled  as  by  enchantment  sweet, 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


407 


From  part  to  part  with  circling  motion  rove, 
Yet  seem  unconscious  of  the  power  to  move ; 
From  line  to  line  through  endless  changes  run, 
O'er  countless  shapes,  yet  seem  to  gaze  on  One. 

"  Though,"  continues  Mr.  Dana,  "  painting  presents  to  the 
eye  a  moment  of  time,  yet  to  the  mind  it  is  not  limited  in  its 
suggestive  power,  but  may  carry  our  thoughts  back  into  a  long 
past,  and  at  the  same  time  forward  into  the  future.  Allston,  I 
find,  on  recurring  to  his  sonnet  on  the  '  Falling  Group '  of 
Michael  Angelo,  has  finely  expressed  this  : " 

On  a  "Falling  Group,"  by  Michael  Angelo. 

How  vast,  how  dread,  o'erwhelming,  is  the  thought 

Of  space  interminable  !  to  the  soul 

A  circling  weight  that  crushes  into  naught 

Her  mighty  faculties  !  a  wondrous  whole, 

Without  or  parts,  beginning,  or  an  end. 

How  fearful,  then,  on  desperate  wings  to  send 

The  fancy  e'en  amid  the  waste  profound ! 

Yet,  born  as  if  all  daring  to  astound, 

Thy  giant  hand,  O,  Angelo  !  hath  hurled 

E'en  human  forms,  with  all  their  mortal  weight, 

Down  the  dread  void — fall  endless  as  their  fate ! 

Already  now  they  seem  from  world  to  world 

For  ages  thrown  ;  yet  doomed,  another  past, 

Another  still  to  reach,  nor  e'er  to  reach  the  last ! 

"  The  remaining  sonnets,"  adds  Mr.  Dana,  "  partake  more  or 
less  of  the  same  character;  and  it  should  be  remembered  that, 
with  the  exception  of  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  who  were  but 
just  then  reopening  upon  us  the  depths  of  our  being  in  a  new 
form,  poetry  had  not  recovered  its  Metaphysic  Idea,  which  had 
lain  so  long  unseen." 

Allston  with  poetic  inspiration  attributes  to  Kembrandt  the 
highest  characteristics  of  genius. 


408 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


In  Bembrandt;  Occasioned  by  his  Picture  of  Jacob's  Dream. 

As  in  that  twilight,  superstitious  age 

When  all  beyond  the  narrow  grasp  of  mind 

Seemed  fraught  with  meanings  of  supernal  kind, 

"When  e'en  the  learned,  philosophic  sage, 

Wont  with  the  stars  through  boundless  space  to  range, 

Listened  with  reverence  to  the  changeling's  tale ; — 

E'en  so,  thou  strangest  of  all  beings  strange  : 

E'en  so  thy  visionary  scenes  I  hail ; 

That,  like  the  rambling  of  an  idiot's  speech, 

No  image  giving  of  a  thing  on  earth, 

Nor  thought  significant  in  reason's  reach, 

Yet  in  their  random  shadowings  give  birth 

To  thoughts  and  things  from  other  worlds  that  come, 

And  fill  the  soul,  and  strike  the  reason  dumb. 

In  his  lines  on  Michael  Angelo  he  lays,  as  it  were,  at  the  feet 
of  the  great  Tuscan,  the  tribute,  we  might  almost  say,  of  his  idol- 
atry. It  is  a  brief  expression  of  his  exalted  admiration.  To  All- 
ston,  Michael  Angelo  was  alone,  peerless,  unapproachable — poet, 
painter,  sculptor,  architect ;  he  styles  him,  "  the  mighty  sover- 
eign of  the  ideal,  than  whom  no  one  ever  trod  so  near,  yet  so 
securely,  the  dizzy  brink  of  the  impossible." 

On  Michael  Angelo. 

'Tis  not  to  honor  thee  by  verse  of  mine 
I  bear  a  record  of  thy  wondrous  power ; 
Thou  stand'st  alone,  and  needest  not  to  shine 
With  borrowed  lustre  ;  for  the  light  is  thine 
Which  no  man  giveth ;  and,  though  comets  lower 
Portentous  round  thy  sphere,  thou  still  art  bright; 
Though  many  a  satellite  about  thee  fall, 
Leaving  their  stations  merged  in  trackless  night, 
Yet  take  not  they  from  that  supernal  light 
Which  lives  within  thee,  sole,  and  free  of  all. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


409 


The  death  of  Coleridge  touched  Allston  deeply,  and  would 
have  overwhelmed  him  with  sorrow  but  for  that  philosophy 
which  his  friend  had  assisted  him  in  cultivating. 

On  Coleridge. 

And  thou  art  gone,  most  loved,  most  honored  friend! 

No,  never  more  thy  gentle  voice  shall  blend 

With  air  of  earth  its  pure  ideal  tones, 

Binding  in  one,  as  with  harmonious  zones, 

The  heart  and  intellect.    And  I  no  more 

Shall  with  thee  gaze  on  that  unfathomed  deep, 

The  Human  Soul, — as  when,  pushed  off  the  shore, 

Thy  mystic  bark  would  through  the  darkness  sweep, 

Itself  the  while  so  bright !    For  oft  we  seemed 

As  on  some  starless  sea, — all  dark  above, 

All  dark  below,— yet,  onward  as  we  drove, 

To  plough  up  light  that  ever  round  us  streamed. 

But  he  who  mourns  is  not  as  one  bereft 

Of  all  he  loved;  thy  living  truths  are  left. 

Coleridge's  regard  for  Allston  was  not  only  that  of  a  friend, 
it  was  like  the  tenderest  affection  of  an  elder  brother.  Next  to 
Wordsworth,  as  he  said,  he  loved  and  honored  him  more  than 
anyone  else. 

The  fragment  on  Kubens  is  a  remarkable  epitome.  Its  eight 
lines  hold  a  volume  of  descriptive  criticism  and  merited  praise. 
It  is  certainly  a  wonderful  condensation,  teeming  with  thought 
poetically  expressed.  The  writer  remembers  a  conversation  with 
Allston  in  which  he  said :  "In  my  opinion  Kubens  has  injured 
more  artists  than  he  has  benefited."  The  voluptuous  floridity  of 
his  style  was  constantly  imitated  by  those  who  could  not  reach 
the  height  of  his  great  qualities  whereby  a  satisfying  equipose 
was  sustained. 

On  Kubens. 

Thus  o'er  his  art  indignant  Bubens  reared 
His  mighty  head,  nor  critic  armies  feared. 


410 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


His  lawless  style,  from  vain  pretension  free, 
Impetuous  rolling  like  a  troubled  sea, 
High  o'er  the  rocks  of  Eeason's  ridgy  verge 
Impending  hangs  ;  but,  ere  the  foaming  surge 
Breaks  o'er  the  bound,  the  under-ebb  of  taste 
Back  from  the  shore  impels  the  watery  waste. 

Painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  music,  and  poetry  are  mani- 
festations of  the  same  natural  endowment  or  genius.  They  are 
influenced  according  to  certain  natural  aptitudes  and  capabilities 
of  eye  or  ear  or  hand.  But  though  the  arts  have  a  common  ori- 
gin, and  are  branches  from  one  root,  few  men  of  genius  succeed 
in  more  than  one  branch.  Allston  may  be  numbered  among  that 
few.  So  balanced  wTere  natural  qualities  of  genius  in  him  that 
it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  he  would  have  been  less  successful 
as  a  sculptor  or  poet  than  he  was  as  a  painter.  His  first  at- 
tempt at  modelling  in  clay  was  the  head  of  St.  Peter,  of  which 
West  said,  "  There  is  no  man  in  England  who  can  equal  it."  As 
already  related,  he  supposed  it  to  be  an  antique,  till  informed 
that  it  was  Allston's  wovk.  Of  Allston's  poetry  Coleridge, 
Wordsworth,  and  Southey  have  spoken  in  terms  entitling  him 
to  high  rank.  His  prose,  too,  abounds  in  poetry.  His  "  Lect- 
ures on  Art  "  are  poetic  treatises,  analytical  and  philosophical. 
In  one  of  them  he  has  drawn  a  comparison  between  Os- 
tade  and  Eaphael,  which  for  descriptive  force  and  beauty  is, 
we  think,  unsurpassed.  The  exposition  of  genius  in  opposite 
manifestations  is  so  effective  and  interesting  that  we  reproduce 
it  here  : 

"  In  order,  however,  more  distinctly  to  exhibit  their  common 
ground  of  invention,  we  will  briefly  examine  a  picture  by  Ostade, 
and  then  compare  it  with  one  by  Raphael,  than  whom  no  tw^o 
artists  could  well  be  imagined  having  less  in  common.  The  in- 
terior of  a  Dutch  cottage  forms  the  scene  of  Ostade's  w^ork,  pre- 
senting something  between  a  kitchen  and  a  stable.    Its  princi- 


WASHINGTON  ALL  ST  ON 


411 


pal  object  is  the  carcass  of  a  hog,  newly  washed  and  hung  up 
to  dry,  subordinate  to  which  is  a  woman  nursing  an  infant ;  the 
accessories — various  garments,  pots,  kettles,  and  other  culinary 
utensils.  The  bare  enumeration  of  these  coarse  materials  would 
naturally  predispose  the  mind  of  one  unacquainted  with  the 
Dutch  school  to  expect  anything  but  pleasure ;  indifference,  not 
to  say  disgust,  would  seem  to  be  the  only  possible  impression 
from  a  picture  composed  of  such  ingredients.  And  such,  in- 
deed, would  be  their  effect  under  the  hand  of  any  but  a  real  ar- 
tist. Let  us  look  into  the  picture  and  follow  Ostade's  mind  as  it 
leaves  its  impress  on  the  several  objects.  Observe  how  he  spreads 
his  principal  light,  from  the  suspended  carcass  to  the  surround- 
ing objects,  moulding  it,  so  to  speak,  into  agreeable  shapes,  here 
by  extending  it  to  a  bit  of  drapery,  there  to  an  earthen  pot ; 
then  connecting  it,  by  the  flash  from  a  brass  kettle,  with  his 
second  light,  the  woman  and  child ;  and  again  turning  the  eye 
into  the  dark  recesses  through  a  labyrinth  of  broken  chairs,  old 
baskets,  roosting  fowls,  and  bits  of  straw,  till  a  glimpse  of  sun- 
shine from  a  half-open  window  gleams  on  the  eye,  as  it  were, 
like  an  echo,  and  sending  it  back  to  the  principal  object,  which 
now  seems  to  act  on  the  mind  as  the  luminous  source  of  all  these 
diverging  lights.  But  the  magical  whole  is  not  yet  completed  ; 
the  mystery  of  color  has  been  called  in  to  the  aid  of  light,  and  so 
subtly  blends  tjiat  we  can  hardly  separate  them,  at  least  until  their 
united  effect  has  first  been  felt,  and  after  we  have  begun  the  pro- 
cess of  cold  analysis.  Yet  even  then  we  cannot  long  proceed  be- 
fore we  find  the  charm  returning.  As  we  pass  from  the  blaze  of 
light  on  the  carcass,  where  all  the  tints  of  the  prism  seem  to  be 
faintly  subdued,  we  are  met  on  its  borders  by  the  dark  harslet, 
glowing  like  rubies  ;  then  we  repose  awhile  on  the  white  cap  and 
kerchief  of  the  nursing  mother ;  then  we  are  roused  again  by  the 
flickering  strife  of  the  antagonist  colors  on  a  blue  jacket  and  red 
petticoat ;  then  the  strife  is  softened  by  the  low  yellow  of  a  straw- 


412 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


bottomed  chair ;  and  thus  with  alternating  excitement  and  re- 
pose do  we  travel  through  the  picture  till  the  scientific  explorer 
loses  the  analyst  in  the  unresisting  passiveness  of  a  poetic 
dream.  Now  all  this  will  no  doubt  appear  to  many,  if  not  ab- 
surd, at  least  exaggerated ;  but  not  so  to  those  who  have  ever  felt 
the  sorcery  of  color.  They,  we  are  sure,  will  be  the  last  to  ques- 
tion the  character  of  the  feeling  because  of  the  ingredients  which 
work  the  spell,  and,  if  true  to  themselves,  they  must  call  it  poe- 
try. Nor  will  they  consider  it  any  disparagement  to  the  all- 
accomplished  Raphael  to  say  of  Ostade  that  he  also  was  an 
artist. 

"  We  turn  now  to  a  work  of  the  great  Italian — the  '  Death 
of  Ananias.'  The  scene  is  laid  in  a  plain  apartment,  which  is 
wholly  devoid  of  ornament,  as  became  the  hall  of  audience  of 
the  primitive  Christians.  The  apostles  (then  eleven  in  number) 
have  assembled  to  transact  the  temporal  business  of  the  Church, 
and  are  standing  together  on  a  slightly  elevated  platform,  about 
which  in  various  attitudes,  some  standing,  others  kneeling,  is 
gathered  a  promiscuous  assemblage  of  their  new  converts,  male 
and' female.  This  quiet  assembly  (for  we  still  feel  its  quietness, 
in  the  midst  of  the  awful  judgment)  is  suddenly  roused  by  the 
sudden  fall  of  one  of  their  brethren  ;  some  of  them  turn  and  see 
him  struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death.  A  moment  before  he  was 
in  the  vigor  of  life,  as  his  muscular  limbs  still  bear  evidence ;  but 
he  had  uttered  a  falsehood,  and,  an  instant  after,  his  frame  is 
convulsed  from  head  to  foot.  Nor  do  we  doubt  for  a  moment  as 
to  the  awful  cause :  it  is  almost  expressed  in  voice  by  those  near- 
est to  him,  and,  though  varied  by  their  different  temperaments — 
by  terror,  astonishment,  and  submissive  faith — this  voice  has  yet 
but  one  meaning,  '  Ananias  has  lied  to  the  Holy  Ghost.'  The 
terrible  words,  as  if  audible  to  the  mind,  now  direct  us  to  him 
who  pronounced  his  doom,  and  the  singly  raised  finger  of  the 
apostle  marks  him  the  judge ;  yet  not  of  himself — for  neither 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


413 


his  attitude,  air,  nor  expression  has  anything  in  unison  with  the 
impetuous  Peter  —  he  is  now  the  simple,  passive,  yet  awful  in- 
strument of  the  Almighty ;  while  another  on  the  right,  with  equal 
calmness  though  with  more  severity,  by  his  elevated  arm,  as 
beckoning  to  judgment,  anticipates  the  fate  of  the  entering  Sap- 
phira.  Yet  all  is  not  done ;  lest  a  question  remain,  the  apostle 
on  the  left  confirms  the  judgment.  No  one  can  mistake  what 
passes  within  him  ;  like  one  transfixed  in  adoration,  his  uplifted 
eyes  seem  to  ray  out  his  soul,  as  if  in  recognition  of  the  divine 
tribunal.  But  the  overpowering  thought  of  Omnipotence  is  now 
tempered  by  the  human  sympathy  of  his  companion,  whose  open 
hands,  connecting  the  past  with  the  present,  seem  almost  to  ar- 
ticulate, '  Alas,  my  brother ! '  By  this  exquisite  turn  we  are 
next  brought  to  John,  the  gentle  almoner  of  the  Church,  who  is 
dealing  out  their  portions  to  the  needy  brethren.  And  here,  as 
most  remote  from  the  judged  Ananias,  whose  suffering  seems  not 
yet  to  have  reached  it,  we  find  a  spot  of  repose — not  to  pass  by, 
but  to  linger  upon,  till  we  feel  its  quiet  influence  diffusing  itself 
over  the  whole  mind ;  nay,  till,  connecting  it  with  the  beloved 
disciple,  we  find  it  leading  us  back  through  the  exciting  scene, 
modifying  even  our<  deepest  emotions  with  a  kindred  tranquil- 
Iity. 

"  This  is  Invention  ;  we  have  not  moved  a  step  through  the 
picture  but  at  the  will  of  the  artist.  He  invented  the  chain 
which  we  have  followed,  link  by  link,  through  every  emotion, 
assimilating  many  into  one  ;  and  this  is  the  secret  by  which  he 
prepared  us,  without  exciting  horror,  to  contemplate  the  struggle 
of  mortal  agony.  This,  too,  is  Art,  and  the  highest  Art,  when 
thus  the  awful  power,  without  losing  its  character,  is  tempered, 
as  it  were,  to  our  mysterious  desires.  In  the  work  of  Ostade 
we  see  the  same  inventive  power,  no  less  effective,  though  acting 
through  the  medium  of  the  humblest  materials. 

"  We  have  now  exhibited  two  pictures,  and  by  two  painters 


414 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


who  may  be  said  to  stand  at  opposite  poles,  and  yet,  widely 
apart  as  are  their  apparent  stations,  they  are,  nevertheless,  ten- 
ants of  the  same  ground,  namely,  actual  nature  ;  the  only  differ- 
ence being  that  one  is  the  sovereign  of  the  purely  physical,  the 
other  of  the  moral  and  intellectual,  while  their  common  medium 
is  the  catholic  ground  of  the  imagination. 

"  We  do  not  fear  either  sceptical  demur  or  direct  contradic- 
tion when  we  assert  that  the  imagination  is  as  much  the  me- 
dium of  the  homely  Ostade  as  of  the  refined  Raphael.  For 
what  is  that  which  has  just  wrapped  us  as  in  a  spell,  when  we 
entered  his  humble  cottage,  which,  as  we  wandered  through  it, 
invested  the  coarsest  object  with  a  strange  charm  ?  Was  it  the 
truth  of  these  objects  that  we  there  acknowledged  ?  In  part,  cer- 
tainly, but  not  simply  the  truth  that  belongs  to  their  originals  ; 
it  was  the  truth  of  his  own  individual  mind  superadded  to  that 
of  nature,  nay,  clothed  upon  besides  by  his  imagination,  imbuing 
it  with  all  the  poetic  hues  which  float  in  the  opposite  regions  of 
night  and  day,  and  which  only  a  poet  can  mingle  and  make  visi- 
ble in  one  pervading  atmosphere.  To  all  this  our  own  minds, 
our  own  imaginations,  respond,  and  we  pronounce  it  true  to 
both.  We  have  no  other  rule,  and  well  may  the  artists  of  every 
age  and  country  thank  the  great  Lawgiver  that  there  is  no  other. 
The  despised  feeling  which  the  schools  have  scouted  is  yet  the 
mother  of  that  science  of  which  they  vainly  boast." 

Allston  had  a  keen  relish  for  novels,  and  his  comments  upon 
them  were  extremely  interesting.  The  writer  recalls  an  evening 
when,  to  a  few  friends,  he  discoursed  upon  Bulwer's  "Eugene 
Aram,"  which  he  had  just  read.  The  easy  flow  of  language,  em- 
phasized by  his  expressive  countenance  and  manner,  made  it  a 
memorable  occasion  to  his  privileged  listeners.  Allston's  great 
zest  for  novels  was  a  kind  of  voucher  for  his  capability  in  that 
branch  of  art.  This  is  verified  by  his  beautiful  story  "  Monaldi," 
published  in  1841,  a  tale  packed  with  imagination  and  fancy. 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


415 


We  may  open  "  Monaldi  "  at  random  and  we  shall  meet  a  de- 
gree of  thought  taxing  our  own.  To  cite  an  instance  which  in 
its  exacting  quality  may  be  matched  on  nearly  every  page,  we 
give  the  following : 

"  '  Nay,'  said  Monaldi,  1  Raffaelle  is  one  whom  criticism  can 
affect  but  little  either  way.  He  speaks  to  the  heart,  a  part  of 
us  that  never  mistakes  a  meaning,  and  they  who  have  one  to 
understand  should  ask  nothing  in  liking  him  but  the  pleasure  of 
sympathy.' 

" £  And  yet  there  are  many  technical  beauties,'  said  the 
Advocate,  '  which  an  unpractised  eye  needs  to  have  pointed 
out.' 

" '  Yes,  and  faults  too,'  answered  Monaldi ;  '  but  his  execu- 
tion makes  only  a  small  part  of  that  by  which  he  affects  us.  But 
had  he  even  the  color  of  Titian,  or  the  magic  chiaro-oscuro  of 
Correggio,  they  would  scarcely  add  to  that  sentient  spirit  with 
which  our  own  communes.  I  have  certainly  seen  more  beautiful 
faces  ;  we  sometimes  meet  them  in  nature,  faces  to  look  at,  and 
with  pleasure,  but  not  to  think  of  like  this.  Besides,  Raffaelle 
does  more  than  make  us  think  of  him  ;  he  makes  us  forget  his 
deficiencies,  or  rather,  supply  them/ 

"  'I  think  I  understand  you,  when  the  heart  is  touched,  but  a 
hint  is  enough,'  said  Rosalia. 

"  '  Ay,'  said  the  Advocate,  smiling,  '  'tis  with  pictures  as  with 
life,  only  bribe  that  invisible  finisher  and  we  are  sure  to  reach 
perfection.  However,  since  there  is  no  other  human  way  to  per- 
fection of  any  kind,  I  do  not  see  that  it  is  unwise  to  allow  the 
allusion,  which  certainly  elevates  us  while  it  lasts,  for  we  cannot 
have  a  sense  of  the  perfect,  though  imaginary,  while  we  admit 
ignoble  thoughts.' 

"  1  This  is  a  great  admission  for  you,  sir,'  said  Rosalia.  1  'Tis 
the  best  apology  for  romance  I  have  heard.' " 

This  citation  may  fitly  introduce  an  extract  from  a  review  of 


416 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


"  Monaldi,"  written  upon  its  publication,  for  the  North  American 
Bevietv,  by  President  Felton,  of  Harvard  : 

"  We  have  often  before  pondered  Allston's  pages  to  admire 
the  grace  and  delicacy  of  his  English  poetical  style.  The  book 
is  equally  remarkable  for  its  rich  and  harmonious  prose.  The 
nice  selection  of  epithets,  the  faultless  arrangement  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  sentences,  and  the  rhythmical  cadence  to  which 
thought  and  expression  seem  to  move  united,  combine  to  make 
it  one  of  the  most  finished  works  of  American  literature.  We 
fall  here  and  there  upon  a  most  delicately  wrought  picture  of 
some  natural  scene  which  betrays  the  artist's  eye  and  hand ;  then 
a  deep  moral  reflection,  speaking  a  varied  experience  and  obser- 
vation of  life,  meets  our  attention  and  awakens  a  train  of  solemn 
thought ;  then  a  maxim  of  art,  worthy  to  be  laid  up  among  the 
treasures  of  memory  is  modestly  put  forth,  but  bears  under  its 
simple  expression  the  wisdom  of  studious  and  thoughtful  years. 
Such  in  our  judgment  is  the  character  of  this  little  volume  by 
our  great  artist ;  it  is  a  work  of  high  genius,  of  rare  beauty,  and 
of  a  moral  purity  and  religious  elevation  which  distinguishes  it 
from  most  literary  works  of  the  age." 

As  Allston's  Aphorisms  are  published  in  the  volume  entitled 
"  Lectures  on  Art  and  Poems,"  we  cite  but  few  of  them,  and 
these  only  as  giving  further  evidence  of  his  philosophic  and  epi- 
grammatic power : 

1 1  If  an  artist  love  his  art  for  its  own  sake  he  will  delight  in 
excellence  wherever  he  meets  it,  as  well  in  the  work  of  another 
as  in  his  own.    This  is  the  test  of  a  true  love." 

"  Nor  is  this  genuine  love  compatible  with  a  craving  for  dis- 
tinction ;  where  the  latter  predominates  it  is  sure  to  betray  it- 
self before  contemporary  excellence  either  by  silence  or  (as  a 
bribe  to  the  conscience)  by  a  modicum  of  praise." 

"  The  enthusiasm  of  a  mind  so  influenced  is  confined  to  it- 
self." 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


417 


"  Distinction  is  the  consequence,  never  the  object,  of  a  great 
mind." 

"  The  love  of  gain  never  made  a  painter  ;  but  it  has  marred 
many." 

"  The  most  common  disguise  of  Envy  is  in  the  praise  of  what 
is  subordinate." 

"  Selfishness  in  art,  as  in  other  things,  is  sensibility  kept  at 
home." 

"  The  most  intangible,  and  therefore  the  worst,  kind  of  lie  is 
a  half-truth.  This  is  the  peculiar  device  of  a  conscientious  de- 
tractor." 

"  In  the  same  degree  that  we  overrate  ourselves,  we  shall  un- 
derrate others ;  for  injustice  allowed  at  home  is  not  likely  to  be 
corrected  abroad.  Never,  therefore,  expect  justice  from  a  vain 
man :  if  he  has  the  negative  magnanimity  not  to  disparage  you, 
it  is  the  most  you  can  expect." 

"  The  phrenologists  are  right  in  placing  the  organ  of  self-love 
in  the  back  of  the  head,  it  being  there  where  a  vain  man  carries 
his  intellectual  light ;  the  consequence  of  which  is  that  every  man 
he  approaches  is  obscured  by  his  own  shadow." 

"  Some  men  make  their  ignorance  the  measure  of  excellence ; 
these  are,  of  course,  very  fastidious  critics ;  for,  knowing  little, 
they  can  find  but  little  to  like." 

"  The  painter  who  seeks  popularity  in  art  closes  the  door 
upon  his  own  genius." 

"  Make  no  man  your  idol,  for  the  best  man  must  have  faults  ; 
and  his  faults  will  insensibly  become  yours,  in  addition  to  your 
own.    This  is  as  true  in  art  as  in  morals." 

"  Originality  in  art  is  the  individualizing  the  Universal ;  in 
other  words,  the  impregnating  some  general  truth  with  the  in- 
dividual mind." 

"  The  painter  who  is  content  with  the  praise  of  the  world  in 

respect  to  what  does  not  satisfy  himself,  is  not  an  artist,  but  an 
27 


418 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


artisan  ;  for  though  his  reward  be  only  praise,  his  pay  is  that  of 
a  mechanic,  for  his  time, — and  not  for  his  art." 

"  All  excellence  of  every  kind  is  but  variety  of  truth.  If  we 
wish,  then,  for  something  beyond  the  true,  we  wish  for  that 
which  is  false.  According  to  this  test,  how  little  truth  is  there 
in  art !  Little  indeed  \  but  how  much  is  that  little  to  him  who 
feels  it!" 

"  What  light  is  in  the  natural  world,  such  is  fame  in  the  intel- 
lectual ;  both  requiring  an  atmosphere  in  order  to  become  per- 
ceptible. Hence  the  fame  of  Michael  Angelo  is,  to  some  minds, 
a  nonenity ;  even  as  the  sun  itself  would  be  invisible  in  vacuo.'" 

"  A  man  may  be  pretty  sure  that  he  has  not  attained  excellence, 
when  it  is  not  all  in  all  to  him.  Nay,  I  may  add,  that  if  he 
looks  beyond  it,  he  has  not  reached  it.  This  is  not  the  less  true 
for  being  good  Irish." 


CHAPTEE  XXXII. 


ALLSTON'S  ORIGINALITY. — HIS  SYMPATHETIC  FEELING  FOR  THE  OLD 
MASTERS. — SOURCES  OF  HIS  EMBARRASSMENTS. — HIS  GREAT 
NATURAL  GIFTS  AND  GREAT  ATTAINMENTS. — UNFORTUNATE  DIS- 
TRIBUTION AND  ARRANGEMENT  OF  HIS  WORKS. 

Allston  was  a  man  who  represented,  and  may  be  regarded  as 
the  last  great  exemplar  of  the  art  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
He  manifested  in  his  work  the  spirit  and  power  of  the  great 
Italian  masters.  He  copied  none,  but  mingled  indications  of 
Titian  and  Veronese  in  color,  Michael  Angelo  in  form,  and  Ra- 
phael in  graceful  delineation  of  the  affections.  He  engrafted 
upon  his  own  style  great  qualities  from  the  best  examples 
of  the  past,  but  never  so  as  to  obscure  his  individuality.  Pre- 
cedents stimulated  and  assisted  in  the  development  of  himself. 
His  style  was  not  that  of  any  master,  Roman  or  Venetian,  Ger- 
man, Spanish,  or  French ;  it  was  his  own,  invigorated  and  in- 
spired by  the  good  in  all. 

They  who  have  followed  him  in  these  pages  will  not  think 
the  above  statement  demands  more  for  him  than  he  deserves. 
We  have  endeavored  to  be  true  to  our  purpose  to  let  the  trib- 
utes of  his  friends  suffice  for  his  praise,  and  if,  in  this  closing 
chapter,  or  elsewhere,  we  seem  to  have  departed  from  that  pur- 
pose, we  may  appeal  to  those  tributes  to  show  that  we  have  not 
overstepped  the  truth. 

Nature  in  her  prodigality  from  age  to  age  endows  certain 
men  with  transcendent  gifts,  by  which  they  stand  out  conspicu- 
ously upon  the  background  of  their  times.    The  tendency  of 


420 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


human  thought  in  reference  to  specially  endowed  characters  is 
to  apotheosize ;  this  tendency  is  a  token  of  the  highest  in  man, 
it  is  evidence  of  divinity  within  us  thus  to  seek  it  in  others. 
We  bury  the  bodies  of  the  departed,  and  we  sepulchre  in  for- 
getfulness  the  evil  they  have  done ;  the  good  remains  and  be- 
comes more  and  more  vivid  with  the  lapse  of  time;  a  few 
years  encircle  with  a  halo  of  divinity  characters  by  no  means 
faultless.  The  common  tendency  to  forget  faults  and  magnify 
the  virtues  of  men  is  so  strong  that  it  has  deified  founders  of 
religions,  teachers  of  philosophy,  and  princes.  It  is  a  tendency 
as  old  as  the  race  and  as  young  as  the  present  generation.  Our 
own  brief  history  illustrates  this.  Washington  has  become  im- 
maculate, and  Lincoln  is  rapidly  approaching  political  canoniza- 
tion. 

We  claim  only  special  gifts  for  Allston,  or  rather  gifts  spe- 
cial in  degree.  He  was  a  man  in  whom  truth  and  conscience 
were  uncompromising.  Honor,  the  outflowing  of  these,  was  as 
pure  as  a  ray  from  the  moon.  We  cannot  suspect  him  of  insin- 
cerity in  his  confession  of  moral  defects  ;  when  he  says,  "  I  know 
I  have  faults  enough  and  to  spare,"  we  take  him  at  his  word ; 
but  we  think  we  have  prepared  the  way  justly  to  claim  for  All- 
ston, without  fear  of  being  misunderstood,  certain  qualities  and 
capabilities  that  entitle  him  to  consideration  as  a  genius,  using 
the  word  in  its  highest  and  most  inclusive  sense. 

He  is  a  benefactor  who  ministers  to  a  love  of  the  beauti- 
ful through  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  poetry,  or  music. 
Along  the  track  of  the  world's  history  great  men,  like  mountain- 
peaks,  rise  and  reflect  upon  the  masses  below  their  higher,  purer 
light ;  of  these  is  he  who  transfixes  on  canvas  thoughts,  emo- 
tions, beauties — visions  caught  from  that  loftier  communion 
with  nature  whereunto  natural  powers  have  lifted  him. 

Emotions  have  by  their  visible  effects  a  potentiality  in  ethi- 
cal development ;  by  contemplation  and  by  experience  of  them 


WASHINGTON  ALLS TON 


421 


morality  is  evolved.  The  highest  art  is  that  which  makes  vis- 
ible to  the  eye  the  emotions  in  their  various  incitements  and  con- 
sequences— which  touches  and  makes  apparent  the  affections 
and  sensations  embraced  between  the  poles  of  love  and  hate. 
Such  attainment  presupposes  mastery  of  artistic  methods  by 
extraordinary  intellectual  ability  and  mechanical  aptitude.  The 
man  in  whom  the  greatest  intelligence  and  constructive  power 
are  associated  with  a  strong  moral  sense,  whether  painter, 
sculptor,  architect,  poet,  or  musician,  is  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
the  word,  a  genius.    Such  a  man  was  Washington  Allston. 

Eeputations  are  regulated  by  exact  law,  they  are  never  acci- 
dental as  to  their  true  relations,  though  accidental  causes  may 
temporarily  enhance  or  obscure  them.  At  the  age  of  thirty 
Allston's  fame — we  use  the  word  interchangeably  with  reputa- 
tion— was  second  to  none,  if,  indeed,  it  was  not  greater  than  that 
of  any  artist  of  his  years.  In  his  very  infancy  greatness  was 
predicted  for  him.  The  bent  and  quality  of  his  mind  were,  from 
childhood  to  the  culmination  of  his  powers  in  mid-life,  contin- 
ually manifested,  and  men  recognized  in  him  the  characteris- 
tics of  the  true  artist.  From  the  construction  of  little  mud- 
houses  and  miniature  trees,  from  the  ship  drawn  in  chalk  on 
the  bottom  of  a  wooden  chair  in  Mrs.  Calcott's  school,  to  the 
nearly  completed  "  Belshazzar's  Feast "  in  1821,  his  ascent  had 
been  continuous  and  conspicuous  beyond  that  of  any  of  his 
American  contemporaries.  He  never  once  faltered  in  his  de- 
termination to  pursue,  and  his  devotion  to,  art.  His  associ- 
ations were  formed  according  to  his  artistic  predilections. 
While  at  school  in  Newport  his  chief  recreation  was  found 
in  the  shop  of  the  quadrant-maker  and  portrait-painter,  Mr. 
King.  While  in  Cambridge  he  cultivated  the  acquaintance  of 
the  great  miniature-painter,  Malbone.  His  collegiate  education 
gave  that  basis  of  discipline,  that  intellectual  balance-wheel,  if  we 
may  so  express  it,  which  is  especially  necessary,  indeed  indis- 


422 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


pensable,  to  the  continuous  progress  of  a  mind  in  which  imagina- 
tion, as  it  was  in  his  case,  is  so  powerful  as  to  need  bridling  and 
regulating.  Many  a  great  genius  has  fallen  short  of  his  promise 
simply  from  want  of  a  thorough  literary  education. 

Coincident  with  Allston's  final  return  to  America,  and  com- 
parative isolation,  he  developed  a  morbid  sensitiveness  which 
was  at  once  the  cause  and  consequence  of  the  succession  of 
embarrassments  that  wore  upon  his  spirits  and  destroyed  his 
health.  We  are  glad,  however,  to  say,  in  vindication  of  his 
countrymen,  that  his  embarrassments  were  not  from  lack  of 
patronage,  private  or  public,  individual  or  governmental,  but 
rather,  and  solely,  from  want  of  the  stimulation  of  artistic  envi- 
ronment. His  extreme  conscientiousness  in  reference  to  his 
obligations  to  finish  "  Belshazzar  "  was  the  constant  source  of  his 
pecuniary  troubles. 

The  splendid  gifts  wherewith  nature  had  endowed  him  were 
met  by  a  succession  of  untoward  circumstances.  While  engaged 
on  his  first  large  picture,  "The  Dead  Man  Eevived,"  he  was 
stricken  by  a  sickness  from  which,  though  he  lived  some  thirty 
years  after,  he  never  wholly  recovered. 

His  marriage  with  Miss  Channing  was  full  of  promise  for  his 
future.  A  companionship  so  congenial  and  helpful  as  that  which 
she  brought  him  "was  of  incalculable  importance.  In  a  thous- 
and ways,  by  intelligent  advice,  criticism  or  approval,  she  could 
constantly  aid  him  in  his  work.  By  sympathy  she  could  lessen 
difficulties,  soothe  the  pain  of  disappointment,  and  mitigate  the 
many  trials  in  the  struggle  of  life.  By  wifely  interest,  affection, 
and  care  she  could  make  his  home  an  elysium,  recreative  and 
strengthening,  during  his  intervals  of  rest.  The  quiet,  unpa- 
raded  influences  of  true  wifehood  upon  an  artist  of  a  refined  and 
sympathetic  nature  is  inestimable  ;  no  force  external  to  him  has 
such  potency  of  stimulation  and  encouragement. 

After  his  severe  illness  in  Bristol,  just  as  he  had  commenced 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


423 


housekeeping  in  London,  Mrs.  Allston  was,  by  a  brief  sickness, 
taken  from  him,  and  he  was  alone,  bereft  of  a  loving  and  de- 
voted wife,  an  incitement  to  work,  and  source  of  inspiration 
which  nothing  could  supply.  This  most  distressing  calamity,  in- 
volving so  great  loss,  was  soon  followed  by  an  event  even  more 
disastrous  to  his  prospect  of  future  distinction.  His  pictures 
were  attracting  great  attention  and  rendering  him  conspicuous  as 
a  candidate  for  academic  honors.  Mr.  West,  President  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  was  aged  and  infirm ;  no  man  in  England  was  so 
competent  and  so  eligible  to  succeed  him  as  was  Allston.  His 
fame  was  rapidly  increasing  in  London,  when  the  presidential 
chair  was  about  to  become  vacant.  At  this  juncture  various 
causes  conspired  to  draw  him  to  America.  These  causes  second- 
ing his  patriotism  were  reinforced  by  tidings  that  through  the 
mismanagement  and  dishonesty  of  his  agent  in  South  Carolina 
his  patrimony  was  exhausted.  This,  though  not  the  ostensible 
reason,  was,  we  think,  the  superinducing  influence  that  took  him 
from  his  friends,  and  from  his  brilliant  prospects  in  England. 

Still  another  misfortune  had  its  inception  in  his  great  picture 
"  Belshazzar's  Feast."  Had  he  remained  in  London  this  would 
probably  in  a  few  months  have  been  finished,  but  in  taking  it  to 
America  he  took  it  to  a  process  of  retrogression,  which  left  it, 
some  twenty-five  years  after,  hopelessly  unfinished. 

Another,  for  it  may  well  be  thought  a  most  unfortunate 
event  in  its  bearing  upon  Allston's  fame  was  the  throwing  into 
the  sea  of  Coleridge's  notes  on  Rome.  The  result  of  seven 
months'  writing  upon  the  Eternal  City  and  its  art,  while  in  inti- 
mate daily  intercourse  with  the  young  American  artist,  in  ut- 
tering whose  praises  he  never  seemed  to  tire,  doubtless  con- 
tained many  a  tribute  to  his  genius  as  glowing  as  that  which 
called  forth  the  envious  inquiry  of  Northcote,  "  Who  is  this  Mr. 
Allston  ?  " 

Nor  did  this  succession  of  unfortunate  events  cease  with  his 


424 


WASHINGTON  ALLS  TON 


death.  Nothing  could  be  more  detrimental  to  his  fame  than  the 
present  arrangement  of  his  pictures  in  the  Boston  Museum  of 
Art.  Most  unfortunate,  too,  is  the  seclusion  of  his  best  works ; 
"  Jacob's  Dream  "  and  "  Uriel  in  the  Sun  "  are  in  country-houses 
in  England,  where  they  are  seldom  seen.  His  large  picture, 
"  The  Angel  Releasing '  St.  Peter,"  is  in  effect  hidden  from 
view  in  the  chapel  of  the  Hospital  for  the  Insane  in  Worcester, 
Mass.  This  picture  alone,  could  it  be  conspicuously  exhibited, 
would  attest  Allston's  ability,  and  introduce  him  to  the  present 
generation  as  worthy  the  high  appreciation  of  his  contempo- 
raries. It  is  hard  to  be  reconciled  to  such  a  combination  of 
misfortunes,  it  touches  our  sense  of  justice,  and  we  feel  that  it  is 
almost  an  outrage  upon  Allston's  memory  to  expose  so  unfavora- 
bly his  works  where  they  are  seen,  and  to  seclude  effectually 
some  of  his  best. 

E.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  records  that  about  three  weeks  before  All- 
ston's death  he  told  his  wife  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  stop  for 
a  while  his  work  on  his  great  picture,  and  finish  a  small  one  and 
sell  it.  They  were  embarrassed  for  money,  and  he  was  troubled 
with  little  debts.  She  prayed  him  not  to  do  this,  but  he  said  he 
feared  he  must ;  she  said  to  him,  "  Why  don't  you  finish  the 
large  picture  and  get  the  money  for  that?"  "Martha,  don't 
you  think  of  me  as  all  the  rest  of  the  world  does,"  was  his  only 
reply,  and  she  could  say  no  more. 

There  is  a  deep  pathos  in  this  anecdote.  A  man  whose  entire 
influence  and  work  had  ministered  directly  to  the  exaltation  of 
human  character ;  a  man  of  the  highest  genius  allied  to  a  femi- 
nine sensitiveness  unfitting  him  to  cope  with  his  fellows  in  the 
struggle  for  subsistence ;  a  man  in  whom  ideality  and  intellect 
pushed  imagination  into  realms  of  the  unseen  that  he  might 
materialize  visions  of  beauty  to  entertain,  purify,  and  uplift  his 
fellow-men,  the  gentlest  and  purest  of  beings  burdened  with 
poverty!    We  cannot  fix  the  obligation  to  assist  such  a  man, 


Uriel  in  the  Sim. 


From  the  original  in  the  possession  of  the  Duke  of  Sutherland. 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


425 


but  the  simple  fact  of  his  want  is  an  indictment  against  a  state 
of  things  under  which  such  a  fact  is  possible.  "  I  am  grow- 
ing old  and  losing  my  physical  powers.  I  am  ready  to  go,  I 
only  ask  time  and  strength  to  finish  '  Belshazzar.'  "  These  words 
were  addressed  to  his  sister-in-law  a  few  weeks  before  his  depart- 
ure ;  it  was  evidently  toward  evening  with  him. 

Viewed  in  its  extended  influences  upon  his  life  we  may  re- 
gard "  Belshazzar "  as  his  greatest  misfortune.  If  this  picture 
had  never  been  commenced  he  could,  and  doubtless  would,  have 
overcome  the  other  obstacles  in  the  way  of  his  happiness,  his 
health,  and  the  wider  acknowledgment  of  his  powers.  Begun  in 
the  zenith  of  his  career,  this  picture  soon  became  a  great  burden, 
and  as  such  increased  until  he  yielded  to  the  pressure  and  left  it 
upon  the  earth  with  his  tired  body.  So  burdened,  what  wonder 
that  clouds  of  indifference  have  gathered  about  his  fame,  and  men 
knowing  nothing  of  him  but  what  they  learn  from  the  scanty  and 
abortive  display  of  his  pictures  in  Boston  should  doubt  his 
ability  and  question  his  title  to  eminence.  The  greater  won- 
der is  that,  so  oppressed,  he  attained  to  the  measure  of  ac- 
knowledgment accorded  him  by  his  distinguished  contempo- 
raries. 

His  associates  have  passed  away  ;  they  who  were  boys  in  his 
later  life  are  old  men  now,  but  with  those  who  knew  him  the 
sweet  influences  of  his  character  linger  in  memory,  refining  and 
elevating.  To  them  it  is  a  saddening  thought  that  so  soon  none 
who  knew  him  will  remain  to  tell  of  an  individuality  and  presence 
so  charged  with  inspiration  for  others.  This  consideration  has 
influenced  our  efforts.  But  great  characters  are  immortal  in 
the  reflex  of  thein  lives  upon  their  fellow-men.  Though  but 
little  known  to  the  present  generation,  Allston  yet  lives,  and  in 
the  better  thought  and  discrimination  that  will  wait  upon  a 
higher  development  of  taste  and  aesthetic  culture  his  fame  is 
safe,  and  the  acknowledgment  of  his  powers  assured.  This 


426 


WASHINGTON  ALLSTON 


conviction  is  the  inevitable  result  of  investigation  into  his  char- 
acter and  genius. 

With  a  feeling  of  sadness,  as  if  parting  from  an  inspiring  and 
healthful  influence ;  with  a  feeling  almost  of  self-reproach  that 
though  executing  our  task  in  all  faithfulness,  we  have  yet  fallen 
short  of  justice  to  our  subject,  we  take  our  leave  of  Allston. 
In  our  converse  with  his  genius,  in  our  study  of  his  character  as 
an  artist  and  a  man,  we  have  gained  much  to  strengthen,  much 
to  suggest  high  endeavor  and  encourage  the  development  of  what 
is  best  in  character.  Thus  our  own  experience  gives  us  heart  to 
hope  that  beneficent  influences  may  accompany  this  biography. 


IND 


Adams,  J.  Q.,  291. 
Allan,  David,  168. 
Allston,  Henry,  294. 

Allston,  Washington,  his  parentage,  1  ;  his 
birth,  2 ;  his  childhood,  5 ;  his  early 
traits,  5,  6  ;  first  evidence  of  artistic  tal- 
ent, 7  ;  his  first  effort  in  oil,  8 ;  confirmed 
in  purpose  to  paint,  8 ;  early  impressions, 
8,  9 ;  at  Newport,  9 ;  his  acquaintance 
with  Malbone,  9 ;  meets  Miss  Ann 
Channing,  9;  his  temper,  10;  enters 
Harvard,  11  ;  a  dream  of,  10  ;  his  college 
life,  12 ;  his  caricature  and  humorous 
work,  14,  20,  34;  his  character,  15;  his 
commencement  poem,  19  ;  determined  to 
paint,  20 ;  his  manners  during  college 
life,  28  ;  his  ignorance  of  modern  history, 
29;  his  social  habits,  30;  his  return  to 
Charleston,  32 ;  meets  Malbone  and 
Charles  Fraser,  32 ;  embarks  for  Eng- 
land, 36  ;  compared  with  Malbone,  37  ; 
contributes  to  an  exhibition  at  Somerset 
House,  40 ;  his  admiration  for  Reyn- 
olds, 40 ;  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence's  com- 
ment on,  41 ;  his  first  impressions  of 
London,  42 ;  his  confidence  in  his  own 
powers,  46,  47  ;  with  Vanderlyn  in 
Paris,  55  ;  his  impressions  of  Old  Mas- 
ters, 55,  56,  57,  59 ;  his  first  pecuniary 
embarrassment,  57  ;  compared  with  Van- 
derlyn, 58 ;  his  theories  of  painting,  56, 
57  ;  his  journey  to  Italy,  58 ;  visits 
Kome,  59 ;  his  love  of  classic  beauty, 
64 ;  his  intimacy  with  Washington  Ir- 
ving, 67  ;  Washington  Irving's  sketch  of, 
68-75  ;  conceives  painting  of  "  Belshaz- 
zar,"  71 ;  paints  "  Uriel,"  and  "  Elijah," 
72,  129  ;  meets  Earl  of  Egremont,  73, 
74 ;  his  views  on  art,  78,  79,  160,  204- 
206,  221,  222  ;  his  return  to  Boston,  80  ; 
his  fame  extended,  81  ;  his  marriage  to 
Miss  Channing,  81,  422 ;  paints  some  of 


EX 


his  finest  portraits,  82  ;  visits  New  Ha- 
ven, 82 ;  his  poetic  compositions,  82 ; 
reads  poem  before  the  <I>.  B.  K.,  82;  his 
friendship  with  Jarvis  resumed,  83  ;  sails 
with  his  wife  and  Morse  to  England,  86  ; 
his  friendship  with  Sir  George  Beau- 
mont, 89 ;  his  illness,  96 ;  his  sojourn  at 
Clifton,  98 ;  his  description  of  "  Dead 
Man  Revived,"  99 ;  paints  portrait  of 
Coleridge,  104  ;  goes  to  Bristol,  104  ;  re- 
turns to  London,  109;  his  wife's  death 
and  its  effect,  104,  423  ;  paints  "Cavern 
Scene  from  Gil  Bias,"  111  ;  his  generos- 
ity, 111  ;  his  love  of  art,  111  ;  his  relig- 
ious feelings,  113,  246;  sale  of  u  Dead 
Man  Revived,"  118 ;  bis  sketch  of 
"Christ  Healing,"  119 ;  his  second  visit 
to  Paris,  126  ;  his  copy  of  "  Marriage  at 
Cana,"  127,  128 ;  returns  to  London, 
129 ;  wins  first  prize  at  British  Institu- 
tion, 130 ;  his  final  return  to  America, 
135  ;  his  words  concerning  his  English 
friends,  137;  his  arrival  at  Boston,  140; 
elected  associate  member  of  Royal 
Academy,  140 ;  elected  honorary  mem- 
ber New  York  Historical  Society,  149  ; 
his  engagement  to  Miss  Martha  R.  Dana, 
167;  his  method  of  painting,  181-203; 
his  sonnet  on  Art,  199  ;  estimate  of  his 
work  by  Greenough,  201-203 ;  his  coun- 
sel to  Cole,  203  et  seq.  ;  his  bad  health, 
209 ;  his  views  on  carving  retina  of  eye 
in  sculpture,  217;  his  dangerous  sick- 
ness, 218 ;  his  opinion  of  Cogdell's  bust 
of  Moultrie,  219  ;  declines  offer  to  paint 
for  United  States  Government,  228,  287, 
291 ;  his  reasons  for  declining,  230  et  seq., 
289,  291  ;  his  preference  for  Scripture 
subjects,  233  ;  his  price  for  work,  234  ; 
marries  Martha  R.  Dana,  239  ;  his  words 
on  his  second  wife,  241  ;  his  opinion  of 
Cogdell's  "Modestia,"  241;   settles  in 


428 


INDEX 


Cambridgeport,  242 ;  his  habits,  242  et 
seq.  ;  his  courtesy  and  kindness,  244, 
245  ;  his  painting  "  Jeremiah,"  247;  sug- 
gests subjects  to  Cogdell,  251 ;  his  opin- 
ion of  Flaxman,  252 ;  his  opinion  of 
CogdelFs  u  Hagar  and  Ishmael,"  254  et 
seq.,  294,  295,  296,  297;  his  advice  to 
Cogdell,  250  et  seq.  ;  his  feelings  con- 
cerning "  Belshazzar,"  258  et  seq.  ;  Ed- 
ward Everett's  interview  with,  263  ;  de- 
clines to  paint  historical  picture  for 
South  Carolina,  266 ;  his  opinion  of 
Haydon's  "Entrance  into  Jerusalem," 
268,  359,  360;  advice  to  Sully  concern- 
ing "  Mother  and  Child,"  268  ;  his  opin- 
ion of  Cogdell's  bust  of  Dr.  Elliott,  269  ; 
his  comment  on  Greenough's  statue  of 
Washington,  273 ;  his  views  on  costume 
in  statues,  274  et  seq.  ;  his  opinion  of 
Greenough,  276 ;  vindication  of,  against 
accusations  of  indolence,  277  et  seq.,  287 ; 
his  indebtedness  to  his  friends  for  assist- 
ance, 289  ;  invited  to  paint  a  panel  in  the 
capitol  at  Washington,  290  ;  his  words  to 
Cogdell  on  his  projected  visit  to  Italy, 
292  ;  his  physical  condition,  294 ;  his  pen- 
sion to  his  mother,  295,  296 ;  his  portrait 
of  his  mother,  296  ;  his  opinion  of  Pow- 
ers, 297;  exhibition  of  his  pictures  in 
Boston  in  1839,  298  et  seq.  ;  his  love  for 
his  mother,  300  ;  his  profits  from  Boston 
exhibition,  301 ;  his  habits  of  economy, 
301  ;  his  comments  on  profits  of  art,  302 ; 
bust  of,  by  Clevenger,  302,  303  ;  his 
opinion  of  Clevenger,  303  ;  death  of  his 
mother,  305,  306 ;  his  dissatisfaction 
with  prints  from  his  pictures,  310 ;  his 
advice  to  beginner  in  art,  311 ;  his  book 
"  Monaldi,"  312,  313,  374,  414,  415,  416  ; 
relinquishes  share  in  inheritance  in  be- 
half of  his  brother,  314,  321,  322  ;  his 
sister's  death,  315  ;  his  opinion  of  Rac- 
zynski's  "  History  of  Modern  Art  in 
Germany,"  316,  317;  scarcity  of  his 
sketches,  318 ;  his  recollections  of  Rome, 
319;  "  Spalatro  "  exhibited  in  Charles- 
ton, 320  ;  his  advice  to  Cogdell  on  visit 
to  Italy,  319,  325,  326  ;  his  tribute  to 
Legare,  326 ;  his  last  letter,  327  ;  his  last 
words,  330  ;  his  death,  329,  330  ;  his  fu- 
neral, 333  ;  his  sensitive  imagination,  346, 
347 ;  his  disinclination  to  show  "  Bel- 
shazzar," 348-351,  422,  424,  425 ;  recol- 


lections of,  by  R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.,  354  et 
seq.  ;  his  admiration  for  Coleridge,  355, 
356  ;  anecdotes  of  Allston  and  Coleridge 
while  in  Italy,  357,  358,  359 ;  his  willing- 
ness to  help  other  artists  in  their  work, 
359,  379 ;  anecdote  displaying  his  fair- 
ness in  business  dealings,  300 ;  his  con- 
scientiousness, 361 ;  his  comment  on 
Carlyle,  361  ;  anecdotes  of  his  kindness, 
361,  362,  363  ;  his  comment  on  Hazlitt, 
363  ;  on  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  864  ;  his 
painting  of  the  head  of  Judas,  3(>4  ;  his 
dream  of  a  beautiful  woman,  305  ;  his 
comment  on  Mme.  de  Stael,  365 ;  on 
Goethe,  365  ;  on  Rembrandt,  365 ;  on 
music,  365 ;  on  Pere  la  Chaise,  305 ;  on 
Canova,  366  ;  on  Titian,  366  ;  on  Raph- 
ael, 366 ;  on  the  sublime,  366 ;  his  love 
for  his  countrymen,  367  ;  tributes  to,  by 
Longfellow,  Wordsworth,  Bryant,  Les- 
lie, Collard,  Collins,  Professor  Henry 
Reed,  Colonel  William  Drayton,  W.  Y. 
Dearborn,  Charles  Frazer,  J.  H.  Hay- 
ward,  368  et  seq.  ;  by  Horatio  Green- 
ough, 383  et  seq.  ;  by  W.  W.  Story,  388 ; 
his  conversational  powers,  71,  378 ;  an 
idealist,  380,  381  ;  his  literary  work,  394 
et  seq.  ;  Green's  estimate  of,  394  et  seq.  ; 
Holmes's  impression  of,  395  ;  his  versa- 
tility, 398,  410  ;  his  love  of  symmetry, 
398 ;  comparison  between  Ostade  and 
Raphael,  410  et  seq.  ;  his  fondness  for 
novels,  414 ;  his  "Lectures  on  Art  and 
Poems,"  416  ;  his  aphorisms,  416  etseq.  ; 
his  originality,  419  et  seq.  ;  his  sympa- 
thetic feeling  for  Old  Masters,  419  et  seq.  ; 
his  fame,  421,  425 ;  his  poetry,  see 
Poems ;  his  letters,  see  Letters,  see 
Paintings,  see  Portraits. 

Allston,  Mrs.  Washington.    See  Miss  Ann 
Channing  and  Miss  Martha  R.  Dana. 

Allston,  William,  father  of  Washington 
Allston,  2,  4. 

Allston,  William  M.,  308,  314,  321,  322. 
Allston's  Room"  in  Boston  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts,  352. 

"Alpine  Scenery,"  by  Allston,  360. 

"  America  to  Great  Britain,"  poem  by  All- 
ston, 397,  398. 

Amory,  Mr.,  210,  212. 

"Angel  Releasing  St.  Peter,"  by  Allston, 
92,  93,  95, 190,  424, 

Angelo,  Michael.    See  Michael  Angelo. 


INDEX 


429 


"  Anne  Page,"  by  Leslie,  144,  146. 

Aphorisms,  by  Allston,  416  et  seq. 

"  Apollo  Belvedere,"  38,  65. 

Appleton,  Thomas  G. ,  93-95. 

"  Ariadne,"  by  Vanderlyn,  237. 

Art,  Allston's  love  for,  111,  302  ;  his  views 
on,  78,  79,  160,  410  et  seq.;  technical 
method  of  Allston's  art,  181-203  ;  All- 
ston's sonnet  on,  199 ;  as  a  profession, 
256  et  seq.;  importance  of  mastering  ele- 
ments of,  311 ;  invention  and  imagination 
in,  413,  414. 

Ball,  Mr.,  buys  "Jeremiah,"  247. 

Banditti  favorite  subjects,  33. 

Beatrice,  head  of,  painted  by  Allston,  161. 

Beaumont,  Sir  George,  his  interest  in  All- 
ston, 89  ;  his  "  Cynical  Philosopher," 
89 ;  his  opinion  of  "  Dead  Man  Re- 
vived," 90  ;  makes  Allston  an  offer  for 
"Angel  Releasing  St.  Peter,"  91;  his 
opinion  of  the  picture,  92  ;  his  death, 
95,  152,  156,  369.    See  Letters. 

Beechey,  Sir  William,  45,  185. 

Belin,  Mr.,  308-310. 

"Belshazzar's  Feast."    See  paintings  by 

Allston. 
Bendemann,  312,  317. 
Bentivoglio  Cardinal,  portrait  of,  13. 
Benvenuti,  76. 

Boston  Advertiser,  description  of  "  Jere- 
miah," 248,  249. 

Boston,  Allston  Exhibition  at,  298,  301 ; 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  352. 

Bowman,  Mr.,  35. 

"Boyhood,"  poem  by  Allston,  306. 

Brown,  G.  L.,  244. 

Bryant,  William  Cullen,  his  tribute  to 
Allston,  370,  371.    See  Letters 

"  Buck's  Progress,"  by  Allston,  14. 

Burnet's  etchings  from  Raphael's  cartoons, 
310. 

Calcott,  152. 

Cambridge,  Allston's  college  life  at,  12. 

Cambridgeport,  Allston  settles  in,  241. 

Canova,  366,  386. 

Caracci,  Ludovico,  218. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  Allston's  criticisms  of 

his  English,  361. 
Carravaggio,  386. 

"Catherine  and,  Petruchio,"  by  Allston, 
83. 


"  Cavern  Scene  from  Gil  Bias,"  by  Allston, 

111,  122,  123,  266. 
Chalon,  Alfred,  147. 
Chalon,  John,  147. 

Channing,  Miss  Ann,  9,  10 ;  her  marriage 
to  Allston,  81,  422 ;  her  devotion  to 
Allston  during  his  illness,  98  ;  her  death, 
109  ;  her  funeral,  110. 

Channing,  Mrs.   See  Letters. 

Channing.  William  Ellery,  his  comment  on 
Allston's  marriage,  82  ;  his  views  on  as- 
sistance of  Allston,  282  ;  portrait  of,  by 
Allston,  327. 

"  Chanting  Cherubs,"  by  Creenougb,  252. 

"  China  Menders,"  by  Wilkie,  147. 

"Christ  Healing,"  sketch  of,  by  Allston, 
119,  120. 

"Christ  Looked  on  Peter,"  by  Allston,  4(5. 

"  Christ  Raising  the  Widow's  Son,"  by 
Leslie,  130. 

Clark,  Don,  23. 

Claude,  212,  244,  292. 

Clevenger,  his  bust  of  Allston,  302,  303, 325. 

Clifton,  Allston's  sojourn  at,  98. 

Cogdell,  John  F.,  2C8,  213 ;  his  bust  of 
Moultrie,  218,  219;  his  "Modestia,"  241; 
his  bust  of  Dr.  Elliott,  252,  269;  his 
"  Hagar  and  Ishmael,"  254  et  seq.,  294, 
295,  296,  297;  Allston's  advice  to,  256 
et  seq. ;  his  bust  of  Scott,  2S6 ;  his  pro- 
jected visit  to  Italy,  319.    See  Letters. 

Cole,  Thomas,  counsel  to,  by  Allston,  203 
et  seq. ,  297. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  61,  62 ;  his  high 
appreciation  of  Allston,  62  ;  his  conver- 
sational powers,  63  ;  Allston's  comment 
on,  64  ;  Allston's  admiration  for.355,  366  ; 
his  physical  suffering,  77 ;  praises  All- 
ston in  London,  79;  his  attention  to 
Allston  during  illness,  96,  97 ;  his  por- 
trait painted  by  Allston,  104;  Allston's 
opinion  of,  104 ;  his  friendship  for  All- 
ston, 106,  409  ;  his  condolence  with  All- 
ston on  Mrs.  Allston's  death,  114  ;  his 
views  on  war  between  England  and  the 
United  States,  116;  his  "  Essays  on  Fine 
Arts,"  129 ;  portrait  of  his  daughter  by 
Collins,  142 ;  his  separation  from  his 
wife,  356 ;  anecdote  concerning  Allston 
and  Coleridge,  357-359  ;  his  comment  on 
London  authors,  366 ;  reference  to  by 
Wordsworth,  369 ;  publishes  poem  of 
Allston's  in  "Sybilline  Leaves,"  397; 


430 


INDEX 


lines  on,  by  Allston,  409 ;  his  notes  on 
Rome,  423.    See  Letters. 

Collard,  W.  F.,  his  opinion  of  Allston,  138; 
his  tribute  to,  372,  373.    See  Letters. 

Collins,  William,  his  opinion  of  Allston, 
126,  142 ;  his  portrait  of  Coleridge's 
daughter,  142  ;  his  work  in  the  Academy, 
169,  324  ;  his  acquaintance  with  Allston, 
373,  374.    See  Letters. 

Color,  Allston' s  theory  of,  182  etseq.  Ho- 
ratio Greenough  on,  223,  224. 

Columbus,  first  interview  with  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella,  suggested  as  a  subject  by 
Allston,  237. 

"Contemplation,"  by  Leslie,  163. 

Cornwallis,  General,  5. 

Costume  in  statues,  273  et  seq. 

"  Count,"  title  of,  bestowed  on  Allston,  30. 

"  Court  of  Titania,"  by  Allston,  349,  39L. 

Cowper,  307. 

Critics,  Allston's  comment  on,  49-52. 
"Crossing  the  Delaware,"  by  Sully,  238. 
"Cynical  Philosopher,"   by  Sir  George 
Beaumont,  89. 

"  Damon  and  Musidora,"  by  Allston,  34. 

Dana,  Charlotte,  329. 

Dana,  Edmund  T.,  23,  83,  332,  334. 

Dana,  Miss  Martha  R.,  her  marriage  to 
Allston,  239  ;  her  disposition,  241,  424. 

Dana,  R.  H.,  extract  from  memoranda  of, 
10,  11 ;  his  description  of  Allston's 
"Buck's  Progress."  14,  313;  hears  of 
Allston's  death,  332;  views  "  Belshaz- 
zar,"  334  ;  his  intention  of  writing  All- 
ston's life,  390.    See  Letters. 

Dana,  R.  H. ,  Jr.,  his  words  on  Allston's 
death,  330  et  seq.,  334,  349  ;  his  recollec- 
tions of  Allston,  354  et  seq. 

"  Dana's  Memoranda,"  extracts  from,  10, 
11. 

"Danger,"  by  Willes,  162. 

Daubigny,  Charles,  279  et  seq. 

"  Dead  Abel,"  by  Horatio  Greenough,  216. 

"Dead  Man  Revived,"  by  Allston,  90,  99, 

102,  118,  210. 
Dearborn,  W.  Y.,  376,  377.    See  Letters. 
"  Death  of  Ananias,"  by  Raphael,  412, 

413. 

"  Death  of  Archbishop  Sharpe,"  by  Allan, 
168. 

"  Death  on  the  White  Horse,"  by  West,  44, 
122. 


I  "  Diana  of  the  Chase,"  by  Alston,  145. 
Drawings  from  Old  Masters,  285. 
Drayton,  Col.  William,  376.    See  Letters. 
"Dream  of  Arcadia,"  by  Cole,  297. 
Dunlap's  "  History  of  the  Art  of  Design," 
277. 

Dusseldorf,  311. 

Egremont,  Earl  of,  73,  74,  132,  146,  157, 
227,  354. 

"  Elijah  in  the  Desert,"  by  Allston,  72, 129, 
131,  196. 

Elliott,  Dr.,  Cogdell's  bust  of,  252,  269. 

"Energy  of  Character,"  Allston's  Com- 
mencement Poem,  19. 

"Entrance  of  our  Saviour  into  Jerusalem," 
by  Haydon,  165,  268,  359,  360. 

"Essays  on  the  Fine  Arts,"  by  Coleridge, 
129. 

Everett,  Edward,  263,  264.    See  Letters. 

Falconet,  292,  293. 
"  Falling  Group,"  poem  by  Allston,  407. 
"Fall  of  Babylon,"  by  Martin,  147. 
"Falstaff,"  by  Newton,  146. 
Felton,  Professor,  416. 
Field's  "  Harmony  of  Colors,"  192. 
Flagg,  George,  252,  299,  303. 
Flagg,  Dr.  Henry  C,  6,  7.    See  Letters. 
Flaxman,  252. 
Flesh  tints,  182  et  seq. 
"Florimel,"  by  Allston,  162. 
Fraser,  Charles,  32,  320,  377,  378.  See 
Letters. 

"French  Soldier  Telling  a  Story,"  by  All- 
ston, 40. 
Fuseli,  39,  44. 

Genius,  artistic,  Allston's  words  on,  410 

et  seq. 
George  the  Third,  80. 
Gillman,  Mrs.,  356,  358. 
"  Gladiator,"  Allston's  drawing  from,  38- 

46. 

Glazing,  185  et  seq. 
Goethe,  365. 

Green,  J.  H,  323,  326,  394. 

Greenough,  John,  214-225,334  et  seq. 

Greenough,  Henry,  his  description  of  tech- 
nical side  of  Allston's  art,  181-203;  his 
"  Chanting  Cherubs,"  252  ;  employed  by 
U.  S.  Government,  253 ;  his  statue  of 
Washington,  273,  325  ;  Allston's  opinion 
of,  276.    See  Letters. 


INDEX 


431 


Greenough,  Horatio,  Allston's  opinion  of, 
215,  216;  his  "Dead  Abel,"  216;  words 
on  color,  223,  224 ;  his  eulogy  of  Allston, 

383  et  seq. 

"  Group  of  Angels,"  poem  by  Allston,  406. 
"  Guess  my  Name,"  by  Wilkie,  169. 

"Hagar  and  Ishmael,"  by  Cogdell,  251, 
254  et  seq.,  294,  297. 

"  Hamlet,"  by  Fuseli,  44. 

Harding,  Chester,  361. 

"  Harmony  of  Coloring  for  Interior  Deco- 
rations," by  Hay,  192. 

Harris,  John,  84. 

Hay's  "  Harmony  of  Coloring  for  Interior 

Decorations,"  192. 
Haydon,  B.  R.,  163,  165,  170,  268,  359,  360. 
Hay  ward,  J.  H.,  345,  378.    See  Letters. 
Hazlitt,  123,  363. 

"  Hermia  and  Helena,"  by  Allston,  164, 
251. 

"  History  of  the  Arts  of  Design,"  by  Dun- 
lap,  277. 

"  History  of  Modern  Art  in  Germany,"  by 

Count  Raczynski,  316,  317. 
Hogarth,  219. 
Hoit,  Albert  G.,323,  324. 
Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  395. 
"  Hunterian  Oration,  The,"  by  Green,  323. 

"  Importunate  Author,  The,  "  by  New- 
ton, 165,  169. 

"Interior  of  a  Whiskey  Still,"  by  Wilkie, 
163. 

Invention  and  imagination  in  art,  413,  414. 

Irving,  Washington,  meets  Allston,  61  ; 
their  intimacy,  63-67  ;  his  sketch  of  All- 
ston, 68-71;  his  opinion  of  "Jacob's 
Ladder,"  139;  his  "Sketch  Book,"  157, 
161,  164,  170 ;  with  Verplanck  in  Wash- 
ington, 262 ;  his  return  to  London,  170. 
See  Letters. 

"Isaac  of  York,"  by  Allston,  272. 

Italy,  Allston's  journey  to,  58;  cost  of 
living  in,  151  ;  Cogdell's  projected  visit 
to,  319. 

"Jacob's  Dream,"  by  Allston,  73,  132, 
133,  139,  142,  152, 156,  310,  391,  424. 

''Jacob's  Dream,"  by  Rembrandt,  297. 

Jameson,  Mrs.,  her  description  of  "Jacob's 
Dream,"  132 ;  extracts  from  her  me- 
moirs, 298  et  seq. ;  her  words  on  the  All- 
ston Exhibition  in  Boston,  298  et  seq. 


Jarvis,  Leonard,  83,  112,  347.    See  Letters. 
"Jeremiah,"  by  Allston,  167,  247  et  seq., 
392. 

Judas,  head  of,  by  Allston,  364. 

Kaulbach,  312,  317. 
King,  Mr.,  97,  104. 
Knapp,  John.    See  Letters. 

Lamb,  Charles,  354,  355. 
"Landscape,"  by  Allston,  123,  124. 
Landseer,  Sir  Edwin,  163. 
Las  Casas,  148,  150. 

Lawrence,  Sir  Thomas,  his  comment  on 
Allston's  work,  41,  131  ;  his  work  in  the 
Academy,  169;  his  death,  227  ;  Allston's 
comment  on,  3G4  ;  his  influence,  385. 

"  Lectures  on  Art  and  Poems,"  by  Allston, 
416. 

Legare,  326. 

Leslie,  Charles  R.,  living  with  Allston,  71 ; 
visits  Paris,  72;  his  picture  of  "Anne 
Page,"  73,  144,  146 ;  becomes  Allston's 
pupil,  86 ;  his  portrait  of  Allston,  88 ; 
his  description  of  Allston's  illness,  97; 
his  words  on  "  Dead  Man  Revived," 
100;  his  picture,  "  Murder  of  Rutland," 
122;  accompanies  Allston  to  Paris,  126  ; 
his  opinion  of  "  Uriel,"  130 ;  wins  sec- 
ond prize  at  British  Institution,  130  ;  his 
picture,  "Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,"  147, 
152,  156,  159,  162;  introduced  to  Sir 
George  Beaumont,  152,  156  ;  his  picture, 
"Gypsying  Party,"  157,  162,  165;  his 
picture,  "Contemplation,"  163;  his 
picture,  "  May  Day  in  Reign  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,"  168  ;  his  picture  from  "  Mer- 
ry Wives  of  Windsor,"  225  ;  his  poverty, 
226 ;  introduces  Collins  to  Allston,  373, 
See  Letters. 
Letters  : 
Allston  to  Mrs.  Channing,  327. 
Allston  to  Cogdell,  208,  213,  216,  219, 
221,  239,  250,  254,  269,  270,  285,  286, 
291,  293,  295,  303,  307,  319,  321,  324, 
325. 

Allston  to  Drayton  et  als.,  266. 
Allston  to  Dr.  Flagg,  15,  16,  18. 
Allston  to  Charles  Fraser,  42. 
Allston  to  H.  Greenough,  207. 
Allston  to  Irving,  71 ,  72. 
Allston  to  Jarvis,  272,  287. 
Allston  to  Knapp,  49,  51,  243. 


432 


INDEX 


Allston  to  Leslie,  165,  171,  172,  173,  174, 

211,  214,  323. 
Allston  to  McMurtrie,  119,  123,  143,  151, 

158,  249,  310,  312,  314,  317. 
Allston  to  his  mother,  19,  300. 
Allston  to  Pickering,  203. 
Allston  to  Count  Raczynski,  316. 
Allston  to  Verplanck,  148,  153,  179,  215, 

230,  235. 

Thomas  G.  Appleton  to  Mr.  R.  H.  Dana, 

93. 

Sir  George  Beaumont  to  Allston,  90,  92, 

103,  137,  154. 
William  Cullen  Bryant  to  R.  H.  Dana, 

370. 

Coleridge  to  Allston,  76,  114,  127. 
W.  F.  Collard  to  R.  H.  Dana,  372. 
Collins  to  Allston,  140. 
Collins  to  R.  H.  Dana,  373. 
W.  Y.  Dearborn  to  R.  H.  Dana,  376. 
Drayton  to  Allston,  265. 
Drayton  to  R.  H.  Dana,  376. 
Edward  Everett  to  R  H.  Dana,  263. 
Charles  Fraser  to  R.  H.  Dana,  377. 
Henry  Green ough,  181. 
Horatio  Greenough  to  Allston,  223. 
Horatio  Greenough  to  R.  H.  Dana,  383, 
385. 

J.  H.  Hayward  to  R.  H.  Dana,  378. 

Leslie  to  Allston,  142, 146,  157,  162,  167, 
175,  224. 

Leslie  to  R.  H.  Dana,  371. 

Longfellow  to  R.  H.  Dana,  368. 

Henry  Reed  to  R.  H.  Dana,  374. 

L.  M.  Sargent  to  R.  H.  Dana,  347. 

W.  W.  Story  to  R.  H.  Dana,  388. 

Unknown   American  Artist  to  R.  H. 
Dana,  380. 

Verplanck  to  Allston,  149,  235,  239,  253, 
261,  290. 

Verplanck  to  R.  H.  Dana,  229. 

Wordsworth  to  R.  H.  Dana,  369. 
"  Liber  Studiorum,"  Turner's,  204. 
London  authors,  Coleridge's  comment  on, 

366. 

Longfellow.    See  Letters. 
"  Lorenzo  and  Jessica,"  by  Allston,  392. 
Love,  Allston's  comment  on,  47,  4S. 

"  Macbeth  andBanquo,"  by  Martin,162. 
McMurtrie.    See  Letters. 
Malbone,  Allston  meets,  9  ;  Allston's  opin- 
ion of,  12  ;  accompanies  Allston  to  Eu-  | 


rope,  36 ;  his  lack  of  appreciation  of  Old 
Masters,  36  ;  compared  with  Allston,  3? ; 
their  acquaintance,  4:21. 
"Marius,"  by  Vanderlyn,  237. 
"Marriage  of  Cana,  The,"  by  Paul  Vero- 
nese, 55,  56,  127, 128. 
Martin,  147,  162,  170. 

Marys  :  The  Three  Marys  at  the  Tomb  uf 
the  Saviour,  Allston's  conception  of,  for 
a  painting,  233. 
Masquerade  at  college,  24. 
"  May  Day  in  the  Reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth," by  Leslie,  168. 
"Medora,"  by  Greenough,  276. 
Merriam,  Miss,  245. 

Mexico,  flag  unfurled  at,  by  American  Am- 
bassador, proposed  as  a  subject  for  a 
painting,  265. 
Michael  Angelo,  59,  60,  211,  366,  381,  386, 

408,  418. 
"  Mirabeau,"  Carlyle's,  361. 
"Miriam  the  Prophetess,"  by  Allston,  167. 
Mitchell,  Dr.  Edward,  313. 
"Modestia,"  by  Cogdell,  241. 
"  Monaldi,"  by  Allston,  312,  313,  374,  414, 

415,  416. 
Moore,  Elizabeth,  2. 
Moore,  Colonel  James,  1,  2. 
Moore,  Rachel,  1  ;  romance  of  her  life,  3, 
4;  marries  William  Allston,  3  ;  marries 
Dr.  H.  C.  Flagg,  6,  7. 
Morpeth,  Lord,  349. 

Morse,  S.  F.  B.,   accompanies  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Allston  to  England,  86  ;  becomes 
Allston's  pupil,  86 ;  his  opinion  of  All- 
ston, 86,  87 ;  founder  of  National  Acad- 
emy of  Design,   88 ;    his    success  in 
Charleston,  151  ;  at  Boston,  161  ;  visits 
London,  225  ;  recommended  by  Allston 
to  United  States  Government,  228,  238 ; 
his  love  and  reverence  for  Allston,  2b2  ; 
his  desire  to  relieve  Allston,  283. 
"Mother  and  Child,"  by  Sully,  268. 
"  Mountaineers,  The,"  by  Allston,  34. 
"  Mount  Vesuvius,"  by  Allston,  10. 
Mulready,  William,  a  picture  by,  169. 
"  Murder  of  Rutland  by  Clifford,"  by  Les- 
lie, 122. 

Music,  its  effect  on  Allston,  365. 
"Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  by  Allston,  34. 

Neville,  2.  3,  4. 
I  Newspaper  fabrications,  304. 


INDEX 


433 


Newton,  Stuart,  visits  Paris  with  Allston, 
72  ;  incident  of  his  art  studies  in  Italy, 
85 ;  his  picture,  11  Falstaff,"  146  ;  his  pict- 
ure in  London  Gallery,  163;  his  "Im- 
portunate Author,"  165-169 ;  Allston 
dines  with,  361. 

Nicknames  at  college,  31. 

Northcote,  Sir  James,  79,  80,  423. 

Old  Masters,  Allston's  impression  of, 
55-57 ;  Malbone's  indifference  to,  36 ; 
value  of  for  inspiration  and  instruction, 
197 ;  drawings  from,  285 ;  Allston's  sym- 
pathetic feeling  for,  419. 

Opie,  44. 

Originality  in  work  urged  by  Allston,  217, 
218. 

Ostade,  410  et  seq. 

"  Our  Saviour  in  the  Garden,"  by  Haydon, 
170. 

Paintings  : 
By  Allan : 

"  Death  of  Archbishop  Sharpe,"  168. 
By  Allston  : 

"  Alpine  Scenery,"  360. 

"  Angel  Releasing  St.  Peter,"  92,  93, 

95,  190,  424. 
"Beatrice,"  161. 

"  Belshazzar's  Feast,"  71,  73-75,  144, 
152, 166, 167,  210,  226,  250,  228  etseq., 
288,  304,  307,  308,  327,  334  et  seq., 
345  et  seq.,  350  et  seq.,  391,  422,  423, 
425. 

"  Buck's  Progress,"  14. 
"Catherine  and  Petruchio,"  83. 
"Cavern  Scene  from  Gil  Bias,"  111, 

122,  123,  266. 
"Christ  Looked  on  Peter,"  46. 
"Christ  Healing,"  119,  120. 
"Court  of  Titania,"  349,  391. 
"  Damon  and  Musidora,"  34. 
11  Dead  Man  Revived,"  90,  99, 100, 102, 

118,  210. 
"  Diana  of  the  Chase,"  145. 
"Elijah  in  the  Desert," 72, 129, 131,190. 
"Florimel,"  162. 

"  French  Soldier  Telling  a  Story,"  40. 
"  Hermia  and  Helena,"  164,  251. 
u  Isaac  of  York,"  272. 
"Jacob's  Dream,"  73,  132,  133,  139, 

142,  152,  156,  310,  391,  424. 
"Jeremiah,"  167,  247  et  seq.,  392. 
"Judas,  Head  of,"  364. 


Paintings  (continued) : 
By  Allston  (continued)  : 

"  Landscape,"  123,  124. 

"Lorenzo  and  Jessica,"  392. 

"  Miriam  the  Prophetess,"  167. 

"  Mountaineers,"  34. 

"Mount  Vesuvius,"  10. 

"Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  34. 

"  Poor  Author's  Visit  to  Rich  Book- 
seller," 83. 

"  Prometheus  Bound,"  82. 

"  Rocky  Coast  with  Banditti,"  40. 

"  Rosalie  Listening  to  the  Music,"  392. 

"  Satan  Rallying  His  Hosts,"  32. 

"Sisters,  The,"  192. 

"  Spalatro,"  320,  321. 

"Spanish  Girl,"  194,  318. 

"Spenser,"  picture  from,  161. 

"Troubadour,  The,"  193,  272. 

"  Una  in  the  Wood,"  392. 

"Uriel  in  the  Sun,"  72,  73,  129,  130, 
131,  136,  349,  424. 

"Valentine,  The," 82. 

"Virgin  and  Child,"  121,  124,  145. 
By  Sir  George  Beaumont : 

"  Cynical  Philosopher,"  89. 
By  Cole : 

"  Dream  of  Arcadia,"  297. 
By  Fuseli : 

"Hamlet,"  44. 

"  Sin  Separating  Death  and  Satan,"  44. 
By  Haydon  : 

"  Entrance  of  Our  Saviour  into  Jerusa- 
lem," 165,  268,  359,  360. 

"  Raising  of  Lazarus,"  170. 

"Our  Saviour  in  the  Garden,"  170. 
By  Leslie : 

"  Anne  Page,"  73,  144,  146. 

"  Contemplation,"  163. 

"  Gypsying  Party,"  157,  162,  165. 

"May  Day  in  Reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth," 168. 

"  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  225. 

"Murder  of  Rutland,"  122. 

"Roger  de  Coverley,  147,  152,  156,  159, 
162. 
By  Martin : 

"  Belshazzar,"  170. 

"Fall  of  Babylon,"  147. 

"  Macbeth  and  Banquo,"  162. 
By  Newton  : 

"  Falstaff,"  146. 

"Importunate  Author,"  165-169. 


43-1 


INDEX 


Paintings  (continued)  : 
By  Rembrandt  : 

"Jacob's  Dream,"  297. 
By  Sully  : 

"  Crossing  the  Delaware,"  238. 

"  Mother  and  Child,"  268. 
By  Vanderlyn  : 

"  Ariadne,"  57. 

"  Marius,"  57. 
By  West : 

"  Death  on  White  Horse,"  41,  123. 
By  Wilkie : 

"  China  Menders,"  147. 

"  Guess  My  Name,"  169. 

"Interior  of  Highland  Whiskey  Still," 
163. 

"  Penny  Wedding,"  152. 
By  Willis : 

"Danger,"  162. 
"  Paint  King,  The,"  poem  by  Allston,  400 
et  seq. 

Paris,  Alls  ton  at,  55,  126. 

"  Penny  Wedding,"  by  Wilkie,  152. 

Pennsylvania  Acad,  of  Fine  Arts,  pur- 
chases "  Dead  Man  Revived,"  118. 

Pere  la  Chaise,  365. 

"  Peter  Bell,"  by  Wordsworth,  156. 

Phillips,  J.,  360. 

Pickering,  H.    See  Letters. 

"Picturesque  Anatomy,"  by  J.  R.  Smith, 
218. 

Pigments,  200,  201. 

"  Pilgrims,  Landing  of,"  suggested  as  a  sub- 
ject for  Allston,  235,  236. 
Pine,  pictures  of,  13. 
Poems  : 

By  Allston  : 

"  Rosalie,"  395,  396. 

"  America  to  Great  Britain,"  397,  398. 

"Sylphs  of  the  Seasons,"  399. 

"The  Paint  King,"  400. 

"  Group  of  Angels,"  406. 

"Falling  Group,  407. 

"On  Rembrandt,"  408. 

"  On  Michael  Angelo,"  408. 

"On  Coleridge,"  409, 

"  On  Rubens,"  409. 

"  On  an  Old  Pair  of  Bellows,"  367. 

"Sonnet  on  Art,"  199. 

"Boyhood,"  306. 

"To  the  Moon,"  53. 

"Poor  Author's  Visit  to  Rich  Book- 
seller," 83. 


Portraits  : 
By  Allston : 

Of  Mrs.  Allston,  82,  296. 

Of  Dr.  Channing,  82,  327. 

Of  Coleridge,  104,  108. 

Of  E.  T.  Dana,  83. 

Of  King,  104. 

Of  Robert  Rogers,  34. 
By  Collins : 

Of  Coleridge's  daughter,  142. 
By  Lawrence : 

Of  West,  169. 
By  Leslie : 

Of  Allston,  88. 
By  Stuart : 

Of  Trumbull,  145. 
Powers,  297,  325. 

Prints  :  Burnett's  etchings  from  Raphael's 
cartoons,  310 ;  prints  from  Allston's 
pictures,  310. 

"  Prometheus,"  sketch  of,  by  West,  317. 

"Prometheus  Bound,"  by  Allston,  32. 

"  Proofs  of  a  Conspiracy,"  28. 

R.vczTNSKi,  Count,  311,  316.    See  Letters. 
"Raising  of  Lazarus,"  by  Hay  don,  170. 
Raphael,  59,  60,  310,  366,  385,  386,  410  et 
seq.,  415. 

Reed,  Professor  Henry.    See  Letters. 

Rembrandt,  297,  365,  408. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  40,  80,  160,  189,  197, 
200,  207,  293,  298,  344,  354. 

Richardson,  Eben,  11. 

"Richmond  Hill,"  by  Turner,  153. 

Robinson's,  Professor,  "Proofs  of  a  Con- 
spiracy," 38. 

"Rocky  Coast  with  Banditti,"  by  Allston, 
40. 

"  Roger  de  Coverley,"  by  Leslie,  147,  153, 

156,  159,  163. 
Rogers,  Robert,  portrait  of,  by  Allston,  34. 
Rogers,  Samuel,  334. 

Rome,  eminent  persons  in,  60,  61  ;  Allston 
at,  59;  Coleridge's  notes  on,  423. 

"  Rosalie,"  poem  by  Allston,  395,  396. 

"  Rosalie  Listening  to  the  Music,"  by  All- 
ston, 392. 

"Rotterdam,"  by  Calcott,  152. 

Rubens,  185,  200,  409. 

Sargent,  L.  M.    See  Letters. 
"  Satan  Rallying  his  Hosts,"  by  Allston, 
32." 


INDEX 


435 


Scollay,  Miss  Catherine,  24?. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  158,  286. 

Scripture   subjects,   Allston's  preference 

for,  233. 
Shelley,  60. 

"Sin  Separating  Death  and  Satan,"  by 

Fuseli,  44. 
"Sisters,  The,"  by  Allston,  192. 
"  Sketch  Book,"  by  Washington  Irving, 

157,  161,  164,  170. 
Sketches  by  Allston,  318. 
Slaves  of  the  Allston  family,  sale  of,  308, 

309,  314. 

Smith's,  J.  R.,  ''Picturesque  Anatomy," 

218. 
Smybert,  13. 

South  Carolina,  correspondence  concerning 

historical  picture  for,  263. 
Southey,  27. 

"Spalatro,"  by  Allston,  320;  321. 

"  Spanish  Girl,"  by  Allston,  194,  318. 

"  Spenser,"  picture  from,  by  Allston,  161. 

Stael,  Mme.  de,  365. 

Statues,  costume  in,  273  et  seq. 

Story,  W.  W.,  his  tribute  to  Allston,  388  et 
seq.;  his  sonnet  on  Allston,  392,  393.  See 
Letters. 

Stuart,  145,  336,  378. 

Sublime,  The,  366. 

Sully,  238,  268. 

Sumner,  Charles,  389. 

Sutherland,  Duchess  of,  349. 

Switzerland,  Allston's  impressions  of,  58. 

"  Sylphs  of  the  Seasons,"  poem  by  All- 
ston, 399. 

Technique  of  Allston's  Art,  181-2C3. 

Titian,  186,  187,  193,  366,  415. 

14  Troubadour,  The,"  by  Allston,  193,  272. 

Trumbull,  Colonel,  145,  149. 

Turner,  153,  204. 

11  Una  in  the  Wood,"  by  Allston,  392. 


Unknown  American  Artist.    See  Letters. 
"  Uriel  in  the  Sun,"  by  Allston,  72,  73, 129, 
130,  131,  136,  349,  424. 

"  Valentine,  The,"  by  Allston,  82. 

Vanderlyn,  accompanies  Allston  to  Paris, 
55;  his  "Marius"  and  "Ariadne,"  57; 
compared  with  Allston,  58  ;  recommend- 
ed by  Allston  to  United  States  Govern- 
ment, 228,  237;  employed  by  United 
States  Government,  253. 

Van  Dyck,  13,  201,  354. 

Verplanck,  G.  C,  his  "Historical  Dis- 
course," 148  ;  his  literary  plans,  150  ;  his 
"  Evidences  of  Revealed  Religion,"  215  ; 
his  position  at  Washington,  228.  See 
Letters. 

"  Virgin  and  Child,"  by  Allston,  121,  124, 
145. 

"  Vision  of  Bzekiel,"  by  Raphael,  60. 
"  Vision  of  Judgment,"  by  Southey,  368. 

"  Walking  a  Good  Stick,"  24. 

Washington,  George,  statue  of,  by  Green- 
ough,  272  et  seq.  ;  commemoration  poem 
on,  by  Allston,  26,  27. 

Washington,  correspondence  concerning 
paintings  for  Capitol,  228,  287,  290. 

West,  Allston's  opinion  of,  38,  43,  223, 
312;  his  illness,  153,  155,  158;  his  por- 
trait by  Lawrence,  169 ;  his  "  Death  on 
the  Pale  Horse,"  44,  122;  his  theory  of 
color  in  background,  190  ;  his  sketch  of 
"  Prometheus,"  317,  423. 

Wilkie,  Sir  David,  147,  152,  163,  169. 

Willes,  162. 

Wordsworth,  William,  his  opinion  of  All- 
ston's portrait  of  Coleridge,  107  ;  his 
poem  composed  upon  an  evening  of  ex- 
traordinary splendor  and  beauty,  133, 
134 ;  visit  to,  by  Collins,  141 ;  his  poem, 
"Peter  Bell,"  156;  his  tribute  to  All- 
ston, 369,  370.    See  Letters. 


3  3125  01059  8288 


